


I Know You

by Little_oblivion



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger Management, Anorexia, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happiness, F/F, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Postpartum Depression, Promiscuity, Self-Harm, Slow burn?? I guess?, Steroids, There's going to be a lot of angst and sadness, This is a rehabilitation fic, Trauma, read the tags, this fic will deal with the following extensively
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_oblivion/pseuds/Little_oblivion
Summary: 'But we're all stumbling through the nightIt doesn't matter, we're all togetherAnd there's paradise in our mindsFalling together, arms round each other'The girls at Allegheny Rehabilitation Clinic are all struggling with something a little different, be it addiction, trauma, depression, but they all have one thing in common: they're all spiraling towards the edge, and this could be their last chance.
Relationships: Alex Morgan/Kelley O'Hara, Ashlyn Harris/Alex Morgan, Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger, Tobin Heath/Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 119
Kudos: 249





	1. Suppressed by all my childish fears

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hello.
> 
> This is my newest fic. I don't know what to tell you other than my mind has been working to churn out fluff for I'm Hers and demanded another fic where it can be a cranky little angst goblin.  
> That being said, I'm excited about this fic! It's going to be updated in a similar fashion to The Restaurant (which is not abandoned, just on hiatus while I am also on hiatus due to Covid.) It's going to deal with several mental conditions and traumas and I am going to do my utmost best to treat each of them with care and consideration. That being said, they're teenage girls, and they won't always treat each other with care and consideration.   
> Title comes from I Know You by Craig David
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the characters and who you'd like to hear more about! Stay safe, stay sane, stay healthy.

**Patient: Rosemary Kathleen Lavelle**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder**

**Treatment: Clomipramine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Aversion Therapy**

The sun was rising over rural Pennsylvania, playing over the grass, making it glow green and yellow. Birds were chirping in the trees, announcing the beginning of another beautiful day, and the residents of Allegheny Rehabilitation Clinic were slowly coming to consciousness.

Some more gently than others.

“Rose, don’t.” Becky groaned into her pillow.

“I’m not doing anything,” Rose whispered back.

“I can feel you tapping the floor.”

“I just, I have to go to the bathroom,” she whined.

Becky raised her head enough so that she could glare blearily at her roommate. “Then go.”

“I am, but, but you’re distracting me. Shut up and let me concentrate.” She gave her head a shake and started over. She gripped the edge of her bed and touched her right foot from the metal frame of her bed to the blue-grey carpet, one two three four five six seven, then repeated it with the left foot, one two three four five six seven. Seven sacraments, seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, seven deadly sins, seven joys, and seven sorrows of Our Lady. Seven was a holy number, seven would keep her safe.

She stood up from the bed and crept towards the bathroom, flipping on the light and pulling the door shut behind her. She locked the other door, making sure that her suitemates wouldn’t disturb her, and finally sat down to use the bathroom.

She was startled by the door jiggling. “Just a second!”

“Hurry up Rose, I have to pee.”

“I just sat down, Em! Give me a second!” She tried to relax but her body was already tensing up, making it impossible to pee. “Crap.”

There was another knock. “Rosie? Are you almost through?” Ali asked.

Rose buried her head in her hands. She wouldn’t have thought that sharing a bathroom was three other girls would be such a big deal. After all, she had shared a bathroom with her three siblings her entire life. But perhaps one of the only joys of OCD was that she was always the first up at home, making sure she had enough time to get through her routine before her mom drove them all to school. This was unfortunately not the case here at the clinic.

“I’m… trying! Just, please!” She could feel her face beginning to twitch, her facial tic becoming further agitated by her rising anxiety.

She tried to shut out the whispers coming from the other side of the door.

“Just chill out, Sonnett.”

“I’m literally going to pee myself.”

“You know how she gets. If you keep aggravating her she’s going to shut down and then no one will get to use the bathroom. So cool it!”

She squeezed her eyes shut and began to tap her sock covered feet against the bathroom tiles. Seven quick taps, right, then left, then right, then left.

Seven sacraments: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, penance, anointing of the sick, marriage and holy orders.

Seven gifts of the holy spirit: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord.

Seven deadly sins: pride, envy, gluttony, greed, lust, sloth, and wrath.

Seven joys of Mary: the Annunciation, the Visitation, the birth of Our Lord, the adoration of Jesus by the Magi, the finding of the Child Jesus in the temple, the resurrection of Our Lord, the Assumption of Mary in body and in soul into Heaven.

Seven sorrows of Mary: The prophecy of Simeon-

Her body relaxed slightly, and she let out a sigh of relief as she finally was able to pee.

**Patient: Ashlyn Michelle Harris**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Alcohol, Adderall, Marajuana); Anger Disorder; Depression**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Ashlyn tapped her pencil against her notebook, bored out of her mind. She glanced over at the clock above the board, checking the time.

_12:18._

“Ms. Harris, have you finished your assignment?”

She let out a huffy sigh, turning her glare onto Marc. “I’m working on it.”

“Well perhaps you could work on it _better_ if you put eyes to paper, hm?”

She gritted her teeth. It wasn’t fair to be mad at Marc, she knew that. He was actually a pretty decent guy, he’d helped her struggle through nearly eight months of algebra. But couldn’t he see that she was sick of staring at this textbook? “I’m fucking bored.”

“Alright, well let’s watch the lang-”

“Algebra is bullshit!”

Marc gave her a look. “Ashlyn, let’s not-”

“Marc, can you come double check this answer?” He glanced over at Pinoe, who was waving her paper in the air. He deliberated for a second, then contented himself with giving Ashlyn a stern look before proceeding over to Pinoe’s desk. He took the paper from her and she turned to stick her tongue out at Ashlyn while he was distracted. She smiled back at her best friend, thankful for her help.

A bell chimed, signaling the end of the school period and the beginning of lunch. Everyone jumped up, gathering their things. Ashlyn was almost to the door when she was stopped. “Ash- a word?”

She reluctantly turned around, waiting for her classmates to filter out. “Yeah?”

“Listen, I know that you don’t like math. You don’t have to. And it’s okay to be frustrated.”

“I’m not frustrated! I’m-”

“Bored, yes, you’ve made that very clear. And it’s okay to be bored, too. But what’s not cool is to let it turn you into someone you’re not.”

She scoffed, barely managing not to say something back. This man didn’t know her. He didn’t know the things she had been through. He had no idea what she was and what she wasn’t. “Can I go now?”

“Ashlyn, please-”

“I’m hungry.”

He sighed. “Yeah… head to lunch.”

“Thanks Marc, you’re a dream,” she deadpanned. She swung her backpack up onto her shoulder and stalked out of the room before he had a chance to say anything else.

She made a plate and dropped onto the hard, wooden bench between Pinoe and Ali. “What are we talking about?”

“About how you nearly got your privileges revoked over quadratic equations,” Pinoe drawled.

“It wasn’t-”

“I’m fucking bored,” Pinoe parroted, wagging her finger and making an exaggerated face. “Blah, blah, math makes me mad, blehhh.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes, her lips pulling into grin against her will. “Okay I do not sound like that.”

“Oh but you do,” Ali argued, bumping her elbow as she ate a piece of apple off of her fork. “Eternally grumpy.”

Ashlyn smiled, putting a covert hand on her knee. “I am _not_ eternally grumpy.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!” Ashlyn laughed, squeezing her hand, tickling Aly and making her giggle. She moved her hand slightly higher and Ali’s smile grew wooden, stiff.

“Ash,” she mumbled, her shoulders tightening towards her ears.

She pulled her hand away, giving her a sheepish look. “Sorry.” She took a few bites of food, letting Ali have a few minutes to relax. “Anyway, how was your morning? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at breakfast.”

“Oh nothing exciting. Sonnet nearly peed herself because Rose was being freaky.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was in the bathroom and wouldn’t get out. Her OCD stuff.”

“OCD stuff?” They both looked up to see Tobin watching them.

“You know… her counting thing. I’m not being mean or anything, that’s just what happened,” Ali replied.

“OCD doesn’t make her freaky.”

Ashlyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Tobs, I know you’re…sensitive about it, but Rose isn’t like Christen. She has all of those rituals, and it can be… y’know a pain to be around, that’s all. I mean, you live with Chris, it can’t always be easy.”

“Well, no, but it doesn’t make Rose freaky, just like Christen isn’t freaky.” Ashlyn met Ali’s eyes and decided not to respond. Tobin could be defensive at best of her best friend and roommate, and it was always a good idea to proceed with caution where Christen was concerned.

“No one is saying that, Tobs.”

Suddenly Alex was sitting down next to Tobin, stealing a blueberry off of her plate. “Hey there cutie. You excited for therapy today?” Tobin grunted something unintelligible, shrugging away from Alex’s hands and crossing to dump her plates. Alex pushed her hair over her shoulder. “What’s bugging her?”

Pinoe took a sip of her soda. “Nothing new. What’s bugging you Baby Horse? Looking for someone to take you for a ride?” she smirked.

Alex leveled a look at her. “Why, are you offering?” she smiled.

“Nah, you’re not my type. Too… girly.” Pinoe waved her hand in Alex’s direction. “I’d end up covered in lip gloss.”

“I hate to break it to you, Pinoe, but you’re not exactly my type either. You’re missing a _key_ body part. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fuck your brains out.” She stole a piece of bread off of Becky’s plate, taking a bite before it was stolen back. “You’d end up covered in a much different fluid.” A chorus of protests broke out at the table, everyone getting up from the table to cross to the trash cans. “What?” Alex protested. “What did I say?”

**Patient: Julie Beth Johnston**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Anorexia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Julie stared down at her plate, her mind whirling. But it wasn’t just her mind, it felt like her entire body was filled with an electric energy, like if someone were to touch her, she would explode.

“Julie?”

“What?” she grumbled.

Laura folded her hands. “There’s only five minutes left in the dinner period and you still have quite a bit of your dinner left.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Still, I need you to finish eating please.”

She picked up her water instead, taking several long drinks from her glass of water.

“May I be excused to the restroom?” Crystal asked.

Laura gave her head a small shake. “Sorry, but you know the rules.”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “How exactly are we ever supposed to get better if we never get to eat like normal people?

Julie smiled at her best friend.

“It’s not a matter of being normal, it’s a matter of being healthy. And when you’ve made progress, when you’ve shown the staff that you’re really interested in getting better, then you’ll start to get some freedom around meal times, but until then you know the rules: no eating behaviors, no leaving the table, you have to finish your entire plate, and mandatory supervision for the hour following mealtimes.”

“And no getting to sit with the normal people,” Crystal added.

“Man, talk about healthy,” Lindsey said in a low voice.

Laura rolled her eyes with a smile. “Very funny.” She turned back to Julie. “Alright miss, you’re running out of time.”

Julie covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, staring at the plate. Her eyes filled with tears and after a tense moment she shook her head.

The bell chimed signaling that free time had officially begun. Laura looked over Crystal and Lindsey’s plates along with inside their napkins to make sure they hadn’t tucked food away, then dismissed them to dump their trays and follow everyone else back to the living space.

“C’mon Jules. I’m sure you want to go hang out with your friends, maybe have a bit of a chat with your mum and dad?”

“I do,” Julie said tearfully.

“And I want you to as well, but first you have to finish your dinner.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry?”

“Well I’m not! I’m not hungry because I don’t feel well!”

“Settle yourself, miss, no need to get feisty.” She watched Julie for a moment then leaned in. “Jules, you know the rules. If you don’t finish your plate, then I’m gonna have to mark it down in your file. And that’s going to affect things like your privileges and your visitations. Didn’t you say your sister is going to be graduating soon?” Julie nodded. “Don’t you want to get to go home for that?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ve got to eat love.”

She slowly brought forkful after forkful up to her mouth. Her food had long gone cold, but she forced herself to chew and swallow it, even if it made her want to vomit. Once the plate was clear and Julie showed her empty napkin, Laura gave her a side hug.

“One meal at a time, miss. Every day you’ll get a little stronger.”

She dried her eyes as she walked to the living area. She got in line behind Kelley to use the phone. As she waited, she couldn’t help but stare at the other girl’s body, tracing it with her eyes. She wanted her thin arms, her lean thighs. Even before she had been shipped off here, when she had finally discovered the exact number of calories to straddle the line between melting the pounds from her body and falling completely into the danger zone, she had never looked like that. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she carve out the body she so desperately craved?

“You’re supposed to be here on Saturday!” Kelley’s voice snapped her out of her self-loathing. “You promised!” Who ever she was talking to said something that she apparently didn’t like, because she slammed the phone into the receiver, then began slamming her fist into the wall next to it.

Immediately staff members were there, grabbing her, wrestling with her. They practically carried her from the room, all the while Kelley fought like hell, profanity pouring from her mouth.

Julie picked up the abandoned phone and dialed her mom’s cell phone, running her fingers along the cord as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mom.”

“Oh hi sweetie! How are you?”

She sighed. She’d been pulled from school, away from the cheerleading squad and all of her friends and shipped across the country to be fattened up, what exactly did her mom expect her to say? “I’m okay,” she lied.

“Good! Getting through your schoolwork alright?”

“Yeah. I have an English paper due on Friday.”

“Oh really? What’s it about?”

They talked about little things before Julie noticed that one of the fourteen-year-olds, Mal, was waiting to use the phone. “Alright, well I better let you go, Mom, other people need the phones.”

“Okay sweetie. I’m so glad we got to talk! And I want you to know that they put you on the prayer list at church, everyone is praying for you.” She swallowed back bile at the idea of everyone in their church talking about her, about how the younger Johnston girl was so pathetic that her parents had no choice but to send her away.

“Okay.”

“And… honey, Zach asked about you. He said he’s written you a few times but that you haven’t called him. He misses you, sweetheart.”

Her ex-boyfriend’s name made her chest ache. “Mom I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay sweetie, I love you-“ She decided to take a page out of Kelley’s book and slam the phone, cutting off her mother’s well-meaning voice.

That night when her roommate, Ashlyn, got in the shower, Julie stripped naked and stood in front of the mirror on the back of their wall. Her eyes were drawn, as always, to her thighs, at the way they bulged out, disgusting, horrific. Her hands snuck down, pinching at the flesh, squeezing until she couldn’t anymore.

She hated this body, but even more than that she hated this place. She hated the regimented schedule, she hated the lack of freedom, she hated the sequestered mealtimes, broadcasting to the other girls exactly why she was here. She hated the way Laura and the other staff spoke, forbidding any talk of weight or calories in her presence. She hated that she had been stripped of all control, the one thing she truly craved.

She pulled on her pajamas then laid down on the floor, forcing herself to do sit ups.

Ashlyn came out of the bathroom and watched her for a moment. “That could get you in a lot of trouble.”

“Not if you don’t tell.” She pulled herself to her feet, abs burning.

“Why do you want to lose weight anyway? Even with you gaining weight you’re still one of the skinniest people I’ve ever seen.”

 _Even with you gaining weight._ The words echoed in her mind and she crawled into her bed, trying to hide her red, embarrassed cheeks. “Goodnight, Ash.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of home. Thought of her parents, of her sister, of her friends, of Zach. She thought of sweet dates to the movies, of him buying them popcorn and candy. Her mouth watered at the thought and she immediately banned the idea, chastising herself for eating so much fat and salt, even in a fantasy.

She thought of size 00 jeans, of visible collarbones and a gap between her thighs. She thought of what it would be like to finally be beautiful, and drifted off to sleep.


	2. I will make you hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi hi!
> 
> Trauma Tuesday, anyone?
> 
> Also, my dearest, lesbianrobinhood, pointed out that the case files serve as good trigger warnings for what that particular character is experiencing. SO please be kind to yourselves, don't read something that will cause you harm.

_'What have I become?_   
_My sweetest friend_   
_Everyone I know_   
_Goes away in the end_

_You could have it all_   
_My empire of dirt_   
_I will let you down_   
_I will make you hurt'_

Hurt, Johnny Cash

**Patient: Tobin Powell Heath**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Tobin stepped forward, accepting the two small paper cups from the nurse. She tipped the white and green pills into her mouth then washed them down with the water provided. She opened her mouth, proving to the nurse that she wasn’t stashing the pills beneath her tongue or in her cheeks. She turned and walked into the school room, pulling out her laptop to get started on her English paper.

“I want cinnamon rolls.” She turned to see Alex sitting beside her, straddling the chair, head propped on her arm, feet swinging wildly.

“They had maple cinnamon oatmeal at breakfast.”

“Yeah but it’s not the same.” She gave Tobin a small smile. “I miss my mom’s cooking.”

She grinned. “I miss my dad swinging through the McDonald’s drive through.”

“Pot roast-“

“McNuggets-“

“Mashed potatoes-“

“French fries-“

“Apple pie-“

“Fried apple pie-“ They lapsed into stupid giggles. Tobin glanced over to see Julie watching them, a funny look on her face. Tobin’s face flushed. They weren’t supposed to talk about food in front of the anorexics, the counselors were afraid of them being set off.

Alex eyes followed Tobin’s gaze. “What do you miss most from McDonald’s?” she asked Julie.

She flinched. “I don’t eat at McDonald’s,” she mumbled.

“Oh that’s right. Otherwise you’d have to barf it all up,” Alex laughed breezily.

Tobin frowned. “Al.”

“What? It’s just the truth,” she shrugged, unbothered as always.

Tobin shot Julie an apologetic grimace. If being in the clinic had taught her anything, it was that you had to accept people as they were and Alex was brash, unaware that the people around her had feelings that she might be hurting. If she were anyone else, she probably wouldn’t have any friends, would be completely shut out. But as it was… well, pretty girls always got a bit more leniency on how they treated others, and Alex was exceptionally pretty, not to mention charming and sugary sweet when she wanted something.

“Alex, you’re in my seat.” Tobin looked up to see her roommate, Christen, standing next to the desk. She had her books clasped tightly in her arms but was attempting to give them a bright smile.

Alex on the other hand, immediately scowled. “Can’t you sit somewhere else? I’m talking to Tobin. You hog her all the time, I deserve to get to talk to my friend.”

“But that’s my seat,” Christen insisted, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.

“Oh, you mean… this seat?” Alex glanced down at the chair she was straddling. She grasped the back of it and began to grind down into it, biting her lip in a way that would have been too cartoonishly sexy if Tobin hadn’t seen her make the exact same face while naked in her bed. “I don’t know Chris, I’m having _such_ a good time with it.” She let out a low, orgasmic moan.

“That’s enough of that, Morgan. Press, if you could find your seat?” Rory commanded from the front of the room.

“But she… she… look what she’s doing to it!” Christen spluttered, her voice high and thin.

“What’s the matter, Chris? You afraid I’m gonna make a dirty mess on your chair?” Alex asked, still rubbing up on the chair. Christen looked like she was nearing tears.

Tobin reached out and grabbed Alex’s arm. “Hey. Knock it off.”

Alex gave her a dirty look. “No.”

“I’m serious. Give her the chair. Don’t be a dick.”

Alex ripped her arm away, standing up. “No, you don’t be a dick, Tobin! Don’t touch me.”

“She said, uncharacteristically,” Pinoe stage whispered, earning several snickers.

Alex flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and shoved Pinoe’s textbook off of her desk as she walked by.

“Morgan! That’s enough. Come sit up here in the jump seat, or I’m going to write you up,” Rory threatened.

Tobin turned back to Christen who was staring at the now vacant chair. “It’s time for class, Chris,” she said softly.

Christen gave her head a little shake. “I… I can’t, what if she… I know she was just being mean, but…” she gestured towards the seat. “I can’t.”

Tobin crossed to the shelves along the wall and grabbed a clorox wipe. She cleaned off the chair, making sure to get every bit, even the legs. When she was done, she looked back at Christen. “Better?”

She gave a shaky nod. “Yeah… Better.” She sat primly in the chair, finally placing her books on the desk. “Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing Tobin’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Tobin ignored the flutter her stomach gave at the physical contact. She once again struggled to push down her crush. Christen was her roommate, her best friend. And anyway, she wasn’t at the clinic to fall in love; she was here to get healthy enough to go home. And if the past had taught her anything, it’s that nothing is worse for your mental health than getting your heart stomped on by a girl.

**Patient: Kelley Maureen O’Hara**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: ADHD; Anger management issues (suspected Intermittent Explosive Disorder)**

**Treatment: Adderall; Valproic Acid; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Anger Management**

Kelley slumped down in the armchair, shoving the toes of her converse against the legs of the coffee table.

Jill opened her black notebook and sat with her pen poised above the paper. She gave a bland smile. “Hello Kelley, how are we feeling today?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes.”

“How are classes going?”

“Fine.”

“Lots of homework?”

“No.”

Jill took a deep breath, her stupid smile still in place. “I hear we had a bit of a problem last night.”

“ _We_ didn’t have anything.”

“What happened?”

She sighed. “Same old shit as always.”

“What happened?” Jill repeated.

She dug her fingernails into the seam of the chair. “I called home.”

“Oh?”

“I was talking to my mom and everything was fine. And then she told me that they’re not coming for visitation weekend.”

“Did she give the reason why?”

“Some shit about my brother having a golf game, as if he doesn’t have golf every weekend, as if she doesn’t get to see him every fucking day. Not to mention that she hasn’t seen me in two months!” She had been forced to miss out on last month’s visitation weekend because of she had gotten mad and thrown one of the tablets at the wall, earning herself a place in solitary.

“That must have really hurt.”

“No shit.”

“How did it make you feel?”

“I mean… like you said, hurt! Shitty. Like… like he’s more important than me.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t know,” Kelley grumbled.

“So what did you do after she said that?”

“I… I got mad. I yelled at her, and she told me not act like a brat, that they were spending a lot of money to send me here, and then I hung up on her.” Jill waited, nodding. “And then I hit the wall.”

“I see. And then what happened?”

“I got carried out. They took me to my room to cool down, but I couldn’t. So I started throwing things. I tore my sheets off of my bed. Flipped my mattress. And when I started in on Sammy’s stuff, they grabbed me and gave me a sedative.” She brought her fingers up to rub over the still sore spot where the needle had pierced her arm. “And… well, then I couldn’t do anything else. So they put me into bed. Or onto my mattress, at least.”

“How did you feel afterwards?”

“Better, at first. Relieved. But then I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t like being so out of control. But then things happen and I can’t help it, I’m just furious. I want other people to hurt the way I do.”

“Do you feel vindicated after you have an outburst?”

She scuffed her shoe into the table. “Not… really.”

“Why?”

“Because… because I don’t actually want to hurt anyone. Like I woke up when Sammy came in the room and I apologized for messing with her stuff.”

“You weren’t mad at Samantha?”

“No. She hadn’t done anything wrong.” She gave a half smile. “And even if she had, she’s just so hard to be mad at. She’s just so… tall and concerned all the time.”

Jill gave a slight laugh. “Can I tell you a secret?” Kelley nodded. “That’s why you’re roommates.”

“Really?”

The therapist nodded. “We aren’t just throwing you girls together willy nilly, y’know.”

“I guess not,” Kelley agreed with a laugh.

“So how do you think you’ll spend visitation weekend since your family isn’t coming?”

Kelley shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I don’t think Alex’s parents are coming since she’s flying home the weekend after for her sister’s baby shower, so maybe we can hang out.”

Jill fixed her with a look. “I see. And tell me, you do remember that relationships between patients are not allowed, yes?”

“I do.”

“As well as absolutely no sexual contact?”

“Mm hm.”

“And none of that is happening between you and Miss Morgan?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the p.

Jill gave her a slightly exasperated look. “Kelley, do even feel the slightest bit bad about lying to my face?”

Kelley just grinned.

**Patient: Rebecca Elizabeth Saurbrunn**

**Age: 18**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Adderall); Trauma (Divorce, Loss of a Loved One)**

**Treatment: Supervised Tapering; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Grief Counseling**

Dinner was finished and they had moved into free time. Some girls had broken out the Monopoly board, while several more were watching the Bachelor, shushing anyone who tried to talk outside of commercial breaks. But Becky wasn’t able to do any of that. She was too tired.

They had just knocked her dosage down again, she was certain of that. They insisted that they were doing it so gradually that she wouldn’t notice, but she could. How could she not? She had been from popping nearly 150 mgs every day, staying awake for upwards of 48 hours at a time, feeling like she could rule the world. She would sail through her after school job, finish her homework in a snap, then make dinner and clean the house, all before her dad came home from the hospital.

And now… now she could barely get through the day without a nap. It felt like colors weren’t as vibrant as they once were. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, which really was kind of funny seeing as she hadn’t actually needed the addy to begin with.

She hadn’t even realized her eyes had drifted shut until she felt someone sit next to her. She pried them open and turned to see Carli. “Hey.”

“Hey. They sent me over to keep you awake.” She gestured over her shoulder to the staff, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Oh. Thanks. Y’know it would be a lot easier to stay awake if they would stop lowering my dosage.”

“What are you on?”

“Addy.”

“Ah. I hear that’s a bitch to come off of,” Carli mused.

“It’s a bitch to be on, a bitch to be off… sucks all around I guess.” She turned to study the other eighteen year old carefully. She had only been at the clinic for two weeks, she was still putting name to faces to diagnoses. “What are you on?”

Carli smiled. “Steroids. I've technically been completely detoxed for a few months, but that didn’t stop them from keeping me in here to run up my parents’ insurance.”

“It’s not fair. If you’re eighteen and detoxed then you should be able to choose to leave.”

“I know. But they keep telling my parents all of these stories about increased risk of suicide post-detox, so my mom threw a bitch fit, insisting that I stay.”

“Yeah…”

“What about you? Your mom gonna let you leave once you detox completely?”

“My mom’s dead.”

An awkward silence fell over the couch. “Right. Sorry.”

Becky shrugged. “It’s fine. Car crash.”

“Oh.”

“And my dad is like… super pissed at me, for a lot of things but especially for stealing his prescription pad to write myself notes for Adderell.”

“Fuck.”

Becky yawned. “Yeah. Shit, I just want to go to bed.”

Carli lowered her voice, turning her head so none of the staff could watch her lips move. “You know, if you wanted a little bit of an upper, to help you get through, I know someone who could help.”

Becky raised an eyebrow. The overwhelmingly responsible part of her brain screamed that it was a terrible idea. Sneaking other people’s pills is what got her in this. What the fuck was her problem? She was here to get her life back on track, to be a good girl. But then again, being a good girl didn’t stop her parents from having the nastiest divorce in human history. It didn’t stop her mom’s car from slamming into a tree. What had being good ever gotten her?

“Who?” she murmured back.

“Kelley. Small, brown hair. Can usually be found having a temper tantrum. Horrible ADHD, but can’t handle the medicine fog. She’s usually willing to make a trade.”

“Thanks,” Becky smiled, meaning it whole heartedly. The two things she needed more than anything were a friend and pills, and it looked as if she had just lucked into scoring both.

**Patient: Emily Ann Sonnett**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Anxiety; Trauma (suspected, undisclosed)**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Lorazepam (as needed); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Emily woke with a start, but for a moment couldn’t figure out why. She peered blearily up at the ceiling then turned to look at the alarm clock on the dresser, catching sight of her roommate as she did.

Ali was tossing in her bed, the movement becoming more evident as Emily awoke further. She was talking, just under her breath, then gave a low moan.

“Al- Ali? Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly. She didn’t answer, so Emily pushed back her blankets and approached the other bed.

Ali rolled further onto her back as she stood at her bedside. “Please, Kyle…” Emily put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gently shake her awake, but it didn’t work, Ali merely shrugged away. So she reached for her knee, shaking harder, and that’s when Ali finally bolted up, eyes wide open, her hand hitting Emily’s cheek with a sick thud.

“Fuck!”

“Don’t touch me!” she whispered harshly, pulling in big, ragged breaths.

She jerked backwards, one hand in the air, the other clutching at her face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean- it’s just, you were dreaming.”

Ali began to cry, tears pouring down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them tight to her body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, to, to-”

“It’s okay.” She watched as her roommate tried to calm down, smoothing her hair back away from her face. “Ali?”

“Yeah?”

“Who… who’s Kyle?” Emily asked quietly.

Ali lost what little composure she had found, her sobs turning into wails, hysterical. It just took a few moments before the door to their room was flying open, the light flicking on. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t- I just-“ Emily was directed back towards her own bed while one of the night nurses knelt next to Ali’s bed.

“Hey Kriegs. It’s me, Heather. You’re safe, okay? You’re here at Allegheny, you’re in your room, everything is okay.”

“I was- and they- I didn’t mean to!” Ali cried, gesturing towards Emily. “Didn’t mean- then Kyle!”

Heather pulled back Ali’s blankets, and Emily could see that she was careful not to touch Ali’s legs at all. “Alright, what do you say we go down to one of the counseling rooms, that way you can have some privacy, and Emily can go back to sleep, hm? Maybe I can make some tea?”

Ali nodded and let Heather lead her from the room. The other nurse, Lauren, sat Emily on the side of her bed, examining her face. “Did she catch you with her elbow?”

“No, just her hand.”

“Count yourself lucky then, she’s a lot stronger than you would think, especially when she’s coming out of a nightmare.” She stepped out of the room to grab her an icepack.

“Is she… okay?” Emily asked when she returned.

Lauren sighed. “Yeah, Em. The brain is just a funny thing.”

She sat for several minutes with the ice on her cheek. “Do… do you know who Kyle is?”

Lauren gave her a look. “Even if I do, you know I can’t share someone else’s story with you.” She took back the ice and ushered Emily back into bed, smoothing the blankets over her. “The best thing you can do for Ali is to be a good friend, okay? She’s going to be mortified tomorrow. And if she has another nightmare, grab a nurse. We get paid big bucks to take hits to the face.”

“Okay.”

She sighed, running a thumb over Emily’s swelling cheek. “You’re probably going to have a wicked bruise when you wake up.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m pretty good at covering bruises.” Her heart jumped into her throat as her sleep deprived brain caught up to her stupid mouth, and she looked up at Lauren with wide eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired. I’m going to sleep. Goodnight Lauren.”

Lauren walked to the door and turned off the light. “Sweet dreams, Emily.”


	3. I pretend I'm not hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday everyone.
> 
> Hug your pets for me, and keep fighting on

_'My clothes still smell like you  
And all the photographs say you're still young  
I pretend I'm not hurt  
And go about the world like I'm havin' fun'_

Body Electric, Lana del Ray

**Patient: Alexandra Blaire Krieger**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: PTSD; Trauma (Sexual Assault)**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Lorazepam ( ~~as needed~~ emergencies only); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Ali sat across from Heather for hours. It had taken a while for her to edge away from the hysteria. She knew that most patients would have been sedated after just a few minutes, mostly in the name of efficiency, but Heather was a good nurse, and she knew quite a bit of Ali’s back story. She knew that she couldn’t handle the idea of not having control of her body, and thus gave her the time to try and calm down on her own.

Once she had calmed down to just sniffles, she asked if she wanted to go back to bed. When Ali had resolutely shaken her head no, she’d simply nodded and stepped out of the room, coming back with the beauty kit. They sat next to each other and carefully painted each other’s nails in slow steady strokes. When their hands were finished, Heather asked if Ali wanted her to paint her toes.

She took a deep breath. At one point even the idea would have been unbearable, but she had done lots of work, both in therapy and in low risk situations like this, getting used to people touching her legs. And generally anything below the knee was fine now. Usually.

“Not… not tonight. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! You can always say no.”

“Can… can I paint your toes?”

“Sure! I mean, my feet might stink,” Heather joked. She toed off her shoes and socks, then pulled her feet up so Ali could have access. She waited until Ali had selected a bottle of sparkly lime green polish. “So do you want to tell me what happened?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I had a nightmare.”

“Same as usual?”

“Yeah.” She began on Heather’s big toe. “Starts in his living room, with all of the people dancing. Then I’m upstairs in his bedroom.” She dipped the brush back in the polish. “And I can’t move, my limbs are too heavy. But I can still see. And I can feel his friends. Their… their hands on my legs.” Heather hummed slightly, letting her know she was listening. “And that’s when Emily woke me up. She was shaking my leg.”

“She didn’t know…”

“I know.” She put the lime green on the table and picked up the orange. “I was crying but I was working on calming down when…” Her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “She asked who Kyle was.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I guess I must have, must have said his name. Because when it happened… I knew he was downstairs somewhere, so I kept trying to call out for him. And he… he’s the one who found me. After.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I just miss him so much. Just a few weeks later he was… he was gone. And I just can’t help but feel like, if things had been different, maybe he wouldn’t have run away.”

“Different how?”

She sniffed. “If we hadn’t gone to that party. If I hadn’t drank so much. If… I had been able to clean myself up before he found me.”

“It’s not your fault, Ali.”

“I know, but if-”

“Hey.” Heather put a hand on her forearm. “You didn’t ask for this. For any of it. The blame doesn’t fall on you.”

She nodded. “I just miss my brother a lot.”

“I’m sure he misses you too.”

Once Heather’s toes were done, it was nearly time for everyone to get up and go to breakfast. She left Ali for just a few minutes, coming back with a plate of toast and a cup of tea. “Eat this, and when you’re done I’ll take you back to your room, alright?”

“But-”

“I’ll let the staff know you had a rough night and need to get some sleep. You can rejoin everyone for lunch.”

“Thanks, Heather.”

She smiled. “Don’t mention it, Kriegs.”

When she sat down across from Emily at the table, her stomach ached at the dark, blue and purple mark gracing her cheek. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t- It’s fine. Really.”

“Emily-”

“Seriously. If I had my normal makeup you wouldn’t even be able to see it.”

“Well, I’m sorry. For… all of it.”

“I’m fine. Are you… how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Ali echoed. Their eyes met and they shared a sad smile. “Anyway, feeling much better after getting some sleep.”

“There she is, Miss Sleeping Beauty! Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!” Pinoe crowed, dropping onto the bench next to Emily. Ash took her spot next to Ali and they both spotted her painted nails at the same time. It was a sign that Ali’d had a very bad night.

“Hi beautiful,” Ashlyn said quietly. “Missed you this morning. Feeling better?”

She smiled. “Yeah.” Because all things considered, she was feeling better. Or at least, as good as possible for now.

**Patient: Lindsey Michelle Horan**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Anorexia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Alright, if we could pass all of these out, everyone needs a notebook,” Glennon called out. Lindsey took one from the stack and passed the rest to Morgan. She flipped the cover open and began to lightly trace the lines of the paper with her pencil.

“We’re starting group therapy today with an assignment. I want all of you to take a moment and really look inside of yourselves. You’re all here because you carry something inside of you, some giant sadness, or anger, or secret, something that became so big, so heavy that it came careening out of you in a way that couldn’t be ignored.” Lindsey barely managed not to roll her eyes. She was here because she had left her phone unlocked and her mom had gone through her stuff. She had absolutely freaked out, unable to understand that Lindsey had everything under control, that she was just doing what was necessary to be the best.

“I know that a lot of you have been working hard, working through your issues. It’s hard work, and it doesn’t happen overnight. But what I want you all to work on today is a poem.” She was met with a chorus of groans. “Yeah, yeah, poetry’s lame, whatever, I get it. But I’m serious. I want you all to really take some time and think, and write a poem about what’s happening in your heart.”

They all turned to their notebooks, some immediately beginning to write, while others, like Lindsey, stared down at the page uncomfortably.

She didn’t know what to write. She hated therapy. It severely interfered with her ability to pretend like everything was just fine and she would eventually get to leave this place and forget any of this had ever happened.

She began to lightly pencil in a list of numbers in the margins.

140\. _Two eggs._

140\. _Two slices of wheat bread._

100\. _One tablespoon of butter._

40\. _Half an apple._

Breakfast: 420 calories.

She started a new list.

200\. _Chicken breast._

250\. _Mashed potatoes._

25\. _Steamed carrots._

75\. _Bread roll._

15\. _Spinach._

150\. _Ranch dressing_

Lunch: 715 calories.

She frowned at the number before erasing the lists in their entirety _._ She wasn’t allowed to count calories here. It was firmly against the rules. None of the computers were able to access pro ana websites, and she had been warned that if she was found looking up caloric amounts, she could lose her computer privileges completely.

Thankfully she didn’t need to look them up. She already had most of them stored away in her head. The same part of her brain that was able to effortlessly memorize plays, that could watch the opposing team’s film and then regurgitate their strengths and weaknesses on demand, had slowly catalogued the numbers she needed.

Once the tally of food had disappeared, she begrudgingly turned her mind back to the task at hand.

Poetry. What a joke. She wasn’t good with words, and she didn’t need to be: she was an athlete! She didn’t need to write poetry about her stupid feelings. But she knew that if she refused to participate that it would be brought up in her individual therapy, so she decided to at least try.

“Alright, is everybody done? Does anyone need more time? Okay then, how about we go around and share, who wants to go first?”

Lindsey slumped further down in her chair as across the circle Becky went first. She guessed it was easier to talk about what was happening when it was just a matter of popping a few too many pills.

It was Alyssa’s turn, and Lindsey could see her hands shaking a bit as she picked up her notebook. She cleared her throat slightly.

“You cannot see me, not really.

I’m not a person, but a lake.

Sometimes I smile, I laugh,

But it’s usually just for your sake.

I sink into my own depths,

And I hope I won’t be seen,

You laugh and say I’m fine,

That I’m just a normal teen.

I tell you that I’m drowning

But you won’t accept you’re wrong

Maybe you’re right, cause how could I sink

When I was the lake all along?”

Silence weighed heavy upon the room. “Wow,” Glennon finally said. “That was really powerful, Alyssa. Do you want to discuss what your poem means to you?”

The shy, quiet girl shrugged. “I just… I feel like I’ve been sad my whole life. As long as I can remember. And it’s just gotten worse, the older I’ve gotten. And I felt like when it got really scary, when I tried to tell my mom, she just kinda laughed it off. Said it was a normal teen girl thing to feel sad. And it made me feel like… like maybe she was right, that I wasn’t suffering from depression, that I just… was depression. And that meant I would never get better.”

“Do you think that’s true now?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. The medicine has really helped. And with my individual therapy it’s making me feel like maybe I really can someday find a happy space.”

“You can,” Glennon smiled. Her eyes slid to Lindsey. “Lindsey? Ready to share?”

She felt the prickle of sweat on her neck. “Mine… mine isn’t nearly as good as Alyssa’s,” she admitted.

“It’s not a competition,” Glennon reminded her, and Lindsey scoffed. Everything was a competition, and anyone who said otherwise must be losing. She picked up her notebook and let out a long breath.

“I want to be the best.

Not good.

Not great.

Not incredible.

The best.

THE best.

They said to pick up my knees so I did,

And I ran faster.

They said to do squats so I did,

And I jumped higher.

So when he said to cut weight,

That I was too big,

That I had to lose weight or not play I did.

And then, I was better.

So I kept losing weight,

Because I wanted to be the best.”

She dropped the notebook to her lap, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“That must have been hard to write, Lindsey.”

She shrugged. “No. It’s just the truth. It’s what happened.”

“Do you think it was wrong of your coach to tell you, a sixteen year old girl, to lose weight?”

“I was fifteen. And no. I want to play professional soccer. So I have to be willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Okay. Morgan, would you like to share next?”

**Patient: Christen Annemarie Press**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder**

**Treatment: Clomipramine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Aversion Therapy**

She shut the bathroom door, locking both it and the door leading to Ashlyn and Julie’s room. She pushed back the shower curtain and took a deep breath, then picked up the cleaning caddy.

She coated the bottom of the tub with cleaner, humming as she checked the time on the alarm clock resting on the back of the toilet. When she had first asked Tobin to move it in there, she’d been afraid that she would think she was crazy. She was used to it, everyone thought she was crazy. Her own parents thought she was crazy, that’s how she had found herself here. But Tobin had been good natured about it, agreeing even though she didn’t really understand why it was necessary. So now they had one alarm clock in the bedroom to wake them up for the day, and one in the bathroom to make it easier for Christen to get everything truly clean.

She let the cleaner soak into the tub for a full ten minutes. While she waited, she took the toothbrush and began to scrub the faucet and handles in tiny, precise circles. After that was done, she had to climb up on the edges of the tub (carefully! No sense in slipping and falling, bashing her head open and letting everything be covered in gross, disgusting blood) and began to scrub at the shower head.

Logically, she knew it had to be clean. After all, it was high enough up that the only person who could easily touch it was Ashlyn, and she had already promised Christen that she didn’t mess with it, but it better to be safe than sorry. If the shower head was dirty, it would clearly infect the water, and that meant that she would never get clean.

When it was spotless, she carefully climbed down and began to scrub the tub, putting all of her muscle into it. Once it was practically sparkling (at least, as much as acrylic could sparkle), she turned on the water, rinsing it all away. Double checking everything to make sure that it was pristine, she went back into her and Tobin’s room, washing her hands in the sink for the required 90 seconds.

“You know, your hands are already pretty clean from scrubbing,” Tobin reminded her from her bed.

“Just making sure! I can’t shower with dirty hands. I mean, what if I got something on myself while I was soaping up my legs?” She glanced over her shoulder to find Tobin giving her a very strange look. “Tobs? Are you okay?”

Her face flushed, and she avoided Christen’s eyes. “I, yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Your face is red. Are you feeling sick?” She knew Tobin could hear her voice getting higher, but she couldn’t help it. Was it just her imagination or did the carpets of their room look even dingier than normal, as if whatever germs had infected Tobin were already coating each square inch?

“No! I’m feeling fine, I promise.”

“Are… are you sure? Because if you don’t feel well I can go and tell someone.” _And then strip Tobin’s bed, and her own bed, and wash down the walls with a bleach solution, not to mention their sink-_

“I’m really fine, Chris. Completely healthy, promise.”

“Okay…” Just to be safe, Christen decided to rewash her hands. And once she was done, she tilted her head, considering, then washed them once more.

“Okay!” she chirped, drying her now pink and slightly pruny hands on the hand towel. “I’m going to hop into the shower now.”

“Alright. See you in an hour,” Tobin replied.

Christen smiled. “Okay!”

In the shower, she dropped into the zone. She kept the shower curtain open just enough that she could watch the clock, but not enough to where she would get water on the floor, and began the routine. Shampoo. Rinse. Shampoo. Rinse. Wash hands. Rinse. Conditioner. Wash hands. Rinse. Face wash. Rinse. Face wash. Rinse. Wash hands. Rinse. Shave armpits (with the crappy plastic razor she would have to return to the nurse once she was done). Rinse. Rinse the conditioner out. Wash body. Rinse.

She turned off the water and retrieved her towel, inspecting every inch of her skin as she dried it off, constantly on the lookout for abnormalities. She pulled on her pajamas and placed her towel in the hamper. She slipped her feet into her slippers and walked out to the desk, returning the razor and waiting as they ensured it hadn’t been tampered with in any way.

Back in her room, she carefully went about brushing her teeth then carefully flossed between each and every tooth. Then she washed her hands one final time, and crawled into bed.

She turned on her side and watched Tobin for a few minutes, taking in her glasses and the way her lips moved as she read from the book on her lap. “What part are you reading?” she asked.

“Luke 15. The Prodigal son.”

“What happens?”

Tobin carefully marked her place. “A man has two sons. One takes his inheritance and leaves, he basically spends it on booze and prostitutes. And one day he gets tired of his lifestyle, of being sad and lonely and cold, so he goes back home, and his dad throws a party. The older son comes back from the fields and when he sees the celebration he’s furious. And he asks why they have to celebrate his brother, when he’s been good and faithful the whole time. And the dad says that everything he has is the older son’s, but they have to celebrate his brother’s return, because he was lost but now he’s found.”

“That’s sweet,” Christen whispered. “What do you think it means?”

“I guess that… even when we fall away, when we finally make our way back to God, that he’ll celebrate our return.” She gave Christen a soft smile, the one she only saw when Tobin was reading in her bible. It was a smile of contentment, of peace. The same peace she felt when she finally felt clean.


	4. I Promise I'll Be Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies :) Happy Tuesday
> 
> Last chapter I got requests for Mal, Emily, and Alyssa, so that's what I wrote! I already have Chapter 5 written (will be posted Thursday) but if you have a certain girl you'd like to hear more of in Chapter 6, let me know in the comments or on tumblr!

_'I ran away today, ran from the noise, ran away_   
_Don't wanna go back to that place, but don't have no choice, no way_   
_It ain't easy growin' up in World War three_   
_Never knowin' what love could be, well I've seen_   
_I don't want love to destroy me like it did my family_

_Can we work it out, can we be a family?_   
_I promise I'll be better, mommy I'll do anything_   
_Can we work it out, can we be a family?_   
_I promise I'll be better, daddy please don't leave'_

Family Portrait, P!nk

**Patient: Mallory Diane Pugh**

**Age: 14**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Mal crossed through the bathroom, throwing open the door to Sam and Kelley’s room. “It’s visitation day!” she sang out.

Sam’s eyes darted over to where Kelley was reading a book on her bed. “Yup, that’s today.”

“I’m so excited to see my parents! My sister couldn’t come which is a bummer, but she’s really busy with college right now.”

“Yeah, Kristie’s coming, but she was complaining on the phone because she has a lot of homework and now she has to do it in the car.”

Mal sat on the end of Kelley’s bed. “Wait your parents are driving? How far away is it?”

“Nine hours, hence Kristie’s complaining,” Sam laughed. “But my mom is scared of flying so they drove down yesterday.”

“What about you, Kel? Surely your parents fly from Georgia, that would be way too far to drive.” Sam was giving her a pained look, her eyes wide, but she didn’t understand what she was getting so panicky about.

Kelley turned a page in her book. “They fly, yeah. But they’re not coming today.”

“Oh.” Mal’s stomach sank. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, refusing to raise her eyes to meet Mal’s. “It’s whatever. Their loss. I’ll just have to find something else to do while everyone else gets to talk to their family.”

“Yeah. Um, Bri sent me a few magazines in my latest care package, do you want them?”

Kelley gave her a little smile. “Thanks Mal, but I think I’ll be okay.”

There was a knock on the door and Alex slipped inside. “Oh, are we having a party?”

Kelley shot her a very different smile. “Depends, is that something you’re interested in?”

Sam’s hands were suddenly grabbing her shoulders, steering her to the door. “Will you look at the time! We’re going to be late for being obscenely early to visitation.” Before she could protest, she was in the hallway.

“Hey I need to grab my sweater!”

Sam nudged her down the hallway. “Then go through your door. Trust me, my room is about to be the opposite of PG-13.”

She scoffed. “I’m not a little kid, Sammy! I know about sex stuff!”

“I’m pretty sure those two get up to things that could make a porn star blush.”

By the time the staff started letting families into the rec room, Mal was nearly crawling out of her skin. Even when she was in the height of competition season, she was still remarkably close with her family. Being apart from them had been the worst punishment possible. (Jill and the other counselors had insisted that being here wasn’t a punishment, but how else would they describe being ripped away from her family, from her sport, from the few friends who had stuck around when she went elite?)

As soon as she saw her dad, she ran forward, throwing her arms around him. He swept her up, squeezing her until she felt like her bones might break, but she didn’t care. With her eyes closed and her nose buried in his shoulder, she could pretend like she was back in Colorado, like he had just picked her up from the ice rink.

When he put her down, she dragged them over to a couch, sitting on her dad’s lap and taking her mom’s hand. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Of course, honey. You know we would move heaven and Earth to get to see you. We would come every single weekend if they let us,” her mom assured her, running her thumb over Mal’s hand. “Bri told us to give you extra hugs for her. She’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. I know she’s busy with school. I’m just so glad to see you guys, I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you, too, Buttercup.” She leaned back against her dad, letting herself sink into the feeling that she was safe, that everything was okay.

**Patient: Emily Ann Sonnett**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Anxiety; Trauma (suspected, undisclosed)**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Lorazepam (as needed); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Things were not okay. She sat next to Emma, feeling too stiff, as if she wasn’t a real person but someone carved out of ice. She felt like if she relaxed even the tiniest bit, she would reap the consequences.

“Your hair has gotten so long,” her mom said softly.

She ran her fingers along the ends. She spent most of her time with it up in a messy bun, today was the first time she’d worn it down since the last time they visited.

“Yeah, it has.” She cleared her throat. “I need a trim I guess.”

“Is that all you’re thinking about while you’re in here? Your hair?”

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “No, sir.”

“What _are_ you thinking about? What are we paying for you to do in here?”

She took in half a breath. “We… I do lots of therapy. Both by myself and in groups. We talk about… stuff.”

He grunted, his arms folded across his chest, mouth in a hard line. “Stuff. That’s eloquent of you, thank you, Emily.”

“Don’t clench your jaw like that, dear. It makes your face look wide.”

She consciously relaxed her face, trying to do as her mom asked. “How is work?”

This did the trick; her dad immediately launched into a tirade about the idiots at work, the men his age who had gotten old and soft, as well as the new generation of ‘whimpering millennials’ who were offended by everything, refusing to dedicate themselves to the work the way he had, instead wanting everything to be laid at their feet.

Emily kept up all of the appearances of listening, nodding, asking questions when necessary, agreeing with him at all costs. This left her mind free to wander. She kept her eyes in the direction of her dad but let her focus soften, taking in the little details. She observed the way spit was accumulating in the corners of his lips as he spoke, the way his eyebrows moved as he gesticulated. She saw the way her mom’s eyes were soft, unseeing, as if Emily had inherited the ability to detach herself from situations from her. She let her eyes play over her perfect hair, the crisply ironed crease of her shirt collar, the gleam of the fluorescent lights on her cross necklace.

She couldn’t turn to look at Emma, but she could feel the tense fold of her body beside her. She reached forward to grab her cup of water from the table in front of them and the sleeve of her sweat shirt rode up, letting Emily see the faint sliver of a purple bruise on Emma’s wrist. Her eyebrows furrowed, her skin pricking with all too familiar goosebumps. What had Emma done? She was always the golden child, the perfect one. How had she possibly fucked up to the point of-

“I’m sorry, am I boring you, Emily?” Her eyes snapped back to her dad.

“No, no I’m sorry,” she immediately replied, but was saved by Dawn coming over.

“Hi, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Sonnett. I’m Dawn, I’m one of the staff members here,”

An easy smile graced his lips and he shook her hand. “How’s our girl doing?”

“Oh Emily’s doing just fine. It’s not easy work, but she’s making strides forward. Not to mention, she’s been on the citalopram for about a month now, and I would say it’s made a real difference, wouldn’t you Em?”

“Emily,” her father corrected, still not relaxing his smile.

“Emily, of course,” she amended. “With an Emma and an Emily, I imagine you can’t abbreviate at all, can you?”

“Not so much,” her mother half chuckled.

“Well, this is the first time in the clinic’s history when we’ve had three different girls in residence who are twins and since all three sisters are visiting, we were hoping to get a picture of them. What do you say, ladies?”

“Sure,” Emma responded easily. Emily nodded and they started to follow Dawn across the room to where Pinoe and her sister were already waiting.

When they were far enough from their parents that she wouldn’t be heard, Emily leaned in close. “What happened to your wrist?” she asked in the twin speak that she and Emma had created in the haven of their shared bedroom.

“I got a B- on a history paper. Dad found it in my backpack.”

“Are you okay? Did you-”

“It’s not broken.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said reverting back to English without thinking about it.

“Don’t be.”

“But if I were at home then he wouldn’t-” she looked up to find Pinoe watching her, obviously listening even as her sister did a much better job of hiding the fact that they were eavesdropping. She switched back to twin speak. “If I were home you wouldn’t be having to take all of his anger.”

“No, you would.”

Emily shrugged. “You would be safe.”

“At your expense.” Emma squeezed her hand. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Dawn came back with Alyssa and her twin in tow. “Alrighty! Let’s have… the Naeher twins in the middle. Rapinoes, you take the left, Sonnetts, to the right.” She fiddled with her camera as they got into their positions. “Okay, smile on- Alyssa, I can’t really see you if you stand behind Amanda like that.”

“That’s the point,” Emily heard her mumble under her breath, and couldn’t help but chuckle as Alyssa reluctantly moved further into review, looking painfully uncomfortable.

“Alright, smile on three: one, two, three, cheese!”

**Patient: Alyssa Michele Naeher**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

The camera flashed and Alyssa let her face drop out of it’s stiff, forced smile. Amanda patted her shoulder, giving her a knowing look.

“It’s done.”

“I know.”

A bell chimed, signaling that visitation was coming to an end. She felt relief flood through her body, and then it was immediately replaced by guilt. Pinoe punched Amanda lightly on the arm as they all walked back over to their families.

“You three should start some sort of group message. Or maybe you could get a show on TLC: My Fucked up Twin had to be Committed.”

Alyssa’s parents swallowed back their gasps at Pinoe’s language, instead offering up pale smiles as most of the girls cracked up. She noticed that Emily’s dad just looked pissed, both of the Sonnett twins ducking their faces to hide their grins.

“Honestly, Megan…” her mom sighed, wrapping her up in a hug as they began to say goodbye.

She hugged her little sister Abby, then her dad, then her mom.

“Don’t you think they’ll let you come home soon?” She asked, her face bright and hopeful. “It sounds like you’re doing much better.”

“I, I am. But I think there’s still… y’know. Still things to address. To fix.”

She was met with a confused stare. “Things like what?”

_Thing like the fact that I’m still not convinced that I want to live._ “It’s… I’m trying, Mom. I promise.”

“I just love you so much,” she sighed, giving her a second hug. “I want you back home with us, back in Connecticut. I’m about to start work on the vegetable garden.”

This did pique her interest. “Maybe… maybe you could apply for me to come home on a weekend visit? So I can help?”

Her mother’s eyebrows pinched further. “Or you could just come home for good.”

She sighed. “That’s not how this works, Mom.” She turned to Amanda. “You’ll still water my plants, right? You won’t let them die?”

Alyssa gave a tired nod. “I’m doing the best I can, but I don’t have your green thumb, Lys.” She gave her a hug and pressed her mouth close to Alyssa’s ear. “But I’ll do what I can while you find your way to the surface. Don’t let Mom rush you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She waved as her family made their way out of the room and began to retreat back to the residential hallways, stopping when she saw Mal sobbing uncontrollably, her hands fisted in the sweater of a tall black man who must be her father. Both he and the woman next to him looked as if they were nearing tears as well.

“Mal honey, we have to go.”

“No,” the younger girl sobbed. “Please, I just want to come home.”

“Sweetie, it’s not time yet. You have to stay.”

“Please don’t leave me, please I’ll be better. I won’t do it anymore, I promise!”

“Mal-”

“I’ll do anything you want, just take me with you!” Her sobs were becoming wails, nearly hysterical.

Dawn rushed forward, helping unclench Mal’s hands from her dad. “Come along Mal, no need for tears, darling. Come along.” She wrapped her arms around the young girl, preventing her from latching onto her parents again.

“No, Mama please! Daddy!”

Dawn spied Alyssa still in the room and immediately waved her over, “Lys, perhaps you could help escort our girl back to her room for a bit of a lie down, hm? I’d like to chat with the Pughs before they go.”

Alyssa nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist, marveling at their difference in sizes. Mal had pulled it together enough to be able to walk, but she was still crying, her hands covering her face.

She felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable as she walked her back. “It’s going to be alright,” she murmured, wishing she could come up with something more reassuring to say.

Once inside Mal and Tierna’s room, she steered her towards the bed surrounded with pictures of Mal and her family. Mal curled up around her pillow, despondent. Alyssa patted her gently on the shoulder, looking at the pictures she had up. Her eyes lingered on one of Mal out on the ice, her hair in a beautiful braided hairstyle, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Those are calla lilies, right?” She pointed to the picture.

“Yeah,” Mal sniffed. “They’re my favorite.”

“Did um, did you know that calla lilies aren’t actually lilies?” When Mal turned to look at her, wiping her cheeks, she pressed on. “They’re actual a separate genus.”

“I didn’t…” Mal seemed confused as to why Alyssa was telling her this, or perhaps how she knew so much about calla lilies, but she wasn’t crying as hard, so Alyssa kept going.

“And they’re native to the Northern Hemisphere, but they have an African sister that’s sometimes called a calla lily, even though they aren’t the same.”

“I just thought they were pretty,” she whispered.

“They are. And, and that’s what calla means, actually. Beautiful. And did, did you know that they’re poisonous?” Mal lifted an eyebrow and Alyssa nodded. “Yeah. They can make you really sick.” She shrugged. “Just because something is beautiful doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous or strong.”

“Like Alex.”

She gave a little smile. “Like Alex. Or like you.” She scratched at the back of her neck. “I know it must be hard being so far away from your family, but um, you’re strong. And you can do it. And you’ll get to go back home when the time is right.”

She nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. “Thanks, Alyssa. I’m… I’m gonna try to take a nap.”

“Okay.” She stood up, feeling as if she were looming over Mal’s bed. “Cool. I’m gonna… gonna go.” She crossed to the door.

“Alyssa? Why do you know so much about plants?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Plants don’t need you to talk to them.” Then she slipped from the room.


	5. I don't want to live like my mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you're all happy and healthy.

_'Silhouettes above the cradle hold me down_   
_They won't let me go the wrong way_   
_My mother taught me all the fables, told me how_   
_In the end all the sinners have to pay_   
_But_

_I don't want to live like my mother_   
_I don't want to let fear rule my life_   
_And I don't want to live like my father_   
_I don't want to give up before I die'_

Silhouettes, Smile Empty Soul

**Patient: Samantha June Mewis**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Anxiety Disorder**

**Treatment:** **Alprazolam; Psychotherapy; Group Therapy**

Sam’s eyes snapped open peering frantically into the darkness. Flashes of her dream clung to the edges of her consciousness, images of blood and bone and hurt and heartache. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. _It had been Kelley._

She sat up in bed and looked over at where her roommate was laying in bed, facing away from her. When Sam first moved into this room she had sheepishly admitted to Kelley that she had horrible nightmares, almost every night, as a result of her anxiety. Even when she didn’t remember waking up, she still felt groggy every morning, as if she had only slept for a few short hours instead of the mandated 8-9. Kelley laughed it off, saying that it wouldn’t be a problem: she slept like the dead.

But now that was the problem.

“Kelley,” Sam barely whispered, tying to rouse her roommate but also not make too much noise. No answer.

“Kelley,” she tried again, a little louder. No answer.

She swallowed thickly and propped herself up on her elbow, no longer whispering. “Kelley, wake up.”

She didn’t stir and the panic seized Sam’s heart. What if someone had crept into their room and murdered Kelley while Sam slept on obliviously?

She tried to talk down the anxiety riddled part of her brain like they had discussed in therapy. _The nurses would have noticed if a murderer broke into their room._

What if it was one of the nurses?

_The nurses were their caretakers, they weren’t trying to kill them._

That’s what they wanted her to believe! How well did she even know Heather and Lauren?

_They had to pass background checks to work here._

What did that prove? John Wayne Gacy used to dress up as a clown at children’s hospitals, he still murdered over thirty people!

Sam got out of bed and hesitated in the middle of the room. Kelley wasn’t dead. She was sure the other girl was just sleeping. It was four am, a perfectly natural time for people to be sleeping. But then what if she wasn’t? What if she was lying there, barely clinging to life, and Sam did nothing, letting her die?

She crept closer, bending over Kelley’s bed. She tried to watch for the rise and fall of her chest, but it was hard to see anything in the darkness. She extended a careful hand, feeling around for Kelley’s wrist to check for her pulse. When she finally found it, she pressed her fingers to her skin, holding her breath as she waited. She felt something but couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t feeling her own pulse in her fingertips.

She moved her hand towards where Kelley’s face was turned into the pillow and felt for breathing. Just as hot breath tickled across her skin, making relief rush through her chest, Kelley suddenly awoke, batting wildly at the hand near her face and jerking up in bed.

“What the fuck?!” she gasped.

“You’re alive!”

“I’m sorry, were you hoping I WOULDN’T be?!”

“No, no I’m so glad you’re not dead!”

Kelley reached over to her desk and turned on the lamp, her eyes staring daggers at Sam. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m sorry, I just- I had a dream that you were dead, and I-”

“Well it was obviously just a dream!”

“Yeah, no, I know, but then I was worried, I didn’t know if someone had come in and-” Now the tears were hitting, hot on her cheeks. She pressed her fists against her temples. “I’m sorry! I was just, I was worried and the dream was so awful, there was blood-” her throat choked up before she could say more.

Kelley groaned and moved to sit next to her. “I’m alive, Sammy.”

“I know that! I just-”

“You were worried about me, I know.” She sighed and pulled Sam’s hands away from her face, uncurling one and slapping it against her chest. “Feel that? Still pumping. A little faster than normal because I thought I was waking up to an assassination attempt, but I’m still kicking.” She yawned. “Now, can we maybe go back to bed? Before a nurse comes in to file an incident report?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m really sorry-”

“I know.” Kelley turned off her lamp and flopped back into her pillow. “Either get off my bed or lay down and spoon me.”

Sam gave a hiccuppy laugh, then stood up. “Night Kel.”

Back in her own bed, she closed her eyes. She began to count down from 500, trying to calm the whirlwind of her mind.

She hated living like this. She hated being afraid, of feeling as if she could do nothing but wait for calamity to strike her. She was worried that all of this incessant worrying and panicking was doing irreparable damage to her heart, a fear that she had once heard her mother whisper to her father when she thought Sam and Kristie were asleep in the backseat. Her doctors had assured her that they were much more concerned about the way anxiety was affecting her mental health, sleep quality, and skin, but instead of putting the fear aside she had simply added it to the list.

Her mom. If she was being honest, that’s how all of this was started. She had always been a momma’s girl. While Kristie would be outside, following around their dad, helping him with the grill or by the pool, she was with her mom in the kitchen, watching through the window. Her mom would watch and shake her head, fingers gripping the counter until her knuckles were white, all the while explaining to Sam how easy it would be for her sister to burn her hand or drown. That’s how she learned about the dangers of skin cancer, about all of the various ways to die in a car crash, about how under no circumstances should anyone ever, ever get on an airplane.

The fear had been braided into her hair by her mother’s hands, shaking with worry, and it now seemed to permeate every facet of her life. She had gone from a cautious child to an overwhelmed, six foot tall wreck of a teenage girl. It made her parents fight, her dad blaming her mom for causing her overwhelming anxiety, and the fighting made her worry even more.

She didn’t want to be this way. She saw the way it hurt her parents’ relationship, and she wanted something better for herself. But that didn’t stop her mother’s words from reverberating through her mind, explaining all the ways that danger could appear when you least expected it.

She didn’t want to be her mother, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother was the only one who truly understood her.

**Patient: Alexandra Patricia Morgan**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder (see file notes)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

It had been a long morning. Rory had been in a horrible mood, randomly yelling at people and being an all around dick. Alex had gotten into trouble for talking to Pinoe, but all she’d even been doing was asking her a question, and she didn’t feel that it was fair that she should be written up for that. Maybe if he was a better teacher, she wouldn’t have to ask for help from her fellow inmates.

(“You’re not an inmate here, Alex. You’re not in prison,” Jill was constantly reminding her.

“You could have fooled me.”)

Not to mention, even though she understood why her parents hadn’t come for visitation weekend, it had still sucked to be one of the only girls who hadn’t had a visitor. She’d tried to call her mom almost every morning for a week straight to talk about what they would do on her upcoming trip home but she hadn’t answered her cell phone, instead letting it go straight to voicemail. Thank god she had Kelley to keep her mind and body occupied, or who knows what she would have done.

But now it was time for lunch. She filled up a plate and walked over to their normal table, finding everyone already involved in conversations. She prodded at her peas, scowling at her plate. She heard Tobin behind her and perked up. Yes, she’d slept with Kelley this weekend, but today was a new day. Maybe the thing to make her feel better was to get horizontal with someone. It was hard to dwell on the ache of loneliness in her chest when someone was kissing her neck.

Tobin plopped down next to her and Alex leaned in close. “Got any spare dessert?

“Uh no, sorry. They might still have some in line though, you can go get seconds.” She turned away from Alex and kept talking to someone else. She tried again.

“C’mon, I want something sweet.”

“Okay, okay fine.” Tobin slid the bowl of chocolate pudding from her tray to Alex’s.

“That’s not exactly what I-” But Tobin was already ignoring her again.

She craned around to look at who exactly was so important that Tobin couldn’t even look at her, and her scowl deepened. Christen. Of course it was Christen. They were talking in the oh so special ‘Tobin and Christen’ way, all soft smiles and low laughter.

She turned in the other direction and spotted Ashlyn. She snaked a hand out, scratching her nails up the other girl’s forearm. “Ashy…” She saw the way that the gesture made Ashlyn shudder, goosebumps breaking out across her skin and she grinned.

“What?”

“Come sit closer to me, I’m bored.”

“Then maybe you should eat.”

Alex smirked. “I can think of something I’m hungry for-”

But she was interrupted by the arrival of Ali, excitedly telling Ashlyn about something that happened to her during the morning lessons. Ashlyn abruptly pulled her arm away from Alex, turning completely to her girlfriend.

Rejection slapped her across the face, curling low and hot in her stomach. She stared down at her plate. Why was this happening?

It’s not that Alex was necessarily a jealous person, but she knew what she brought to the table. Boys (and girls, as she had learned since coming here) thought she was hot and were almost always more than willing to shower her with attention if the end result was getting between her legs. She knew what people said about her, but she didn’t particularly care if they thought she was a slut. Sex made her feel good, both physically and emotionally.

But now here she was, wanting, no needing someone to hold her, to put their hands on her and make her feel like it was okay that her mom wasn’t taking her calls, apparently fine with the fact that she hadn’t talked to her youngest daughter in weeks.

And why? She knew that she had her faults. She was a slut, a bitch, a liar, a sociopath. You’d be hard pressed to find a dirty word that her father hadn’t hissed in her general direction. But she wasn’t a freak. Unlike Christen, who washed her hands thirty times a day, who had to clean everything she came into contact with for fear of getting sick or dirty. Unlike Ali, who was locked inside of her body like a princess in a tower, unable to let anyone touch her or hold her, let alone fuck her.

So what? Ashlyn was willing to give up having sex for the foreseeable future? All for some girl? That didn’t make sense to Alex. Sex was the ultimate power. Sex was the way to get anything you wanted.

So why had she been abandoned?

She watched as Ashlyn gently tucked a strand of hair behind Ali’s ear and shot to her feet, seeing red. She grabbed her tray of food and stalked towards the trashcans, throwing her plates around.

She went to storm from the room but found herself stuck at the doorway, a small group of girls forming a traffic jam. She shoved forward, knocking Morgan into Emily, nearly sending both of them to the ground. In front of the door she found Rose, eyes closed and lips moving, her hand reaching out to touch the doorknob before being pulled back.

“What are you doing?” She snarled.

The younger girl startled and whipped around, looking up at Alex with her wide, watery blue eyes. “I just-”

“What? You just what?”

“I just um, I’m going to go through the door but I need to-” Alex felt her anger, her frustration, her loneliness, her fear that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, people would keep leaving her, bubble up and solidify into jagged, cold hatred.

“What you need to do, is grow the fuck up,” she hissed, shoving her face into Rose’s. “You’re a stupid baby, a freak! And in case you missed it, everyone hates you, you make our lives a living hell-” Alex was cut off from saying anything further by two hands wrapping around her elbows, yanking her away. She didn’t even have to turn to know that it was Lindsey, her roommate’s grip leaving no room for argument.

“Someone move Rose,” she barked, and Emily came forward, pulling her out of the way. Lindsey shoved the door open and dragged Alex through, practically marching her back to their room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lindsey asked angrily.

Alex squared her shoulders. “She’s a stupid little freak! And she isn’t even trying to fix herself, and we tiptoe around her like her parents are just going to wait around forever for her to be normal again-”

“It’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing or not doing. No one asked you for your opinion!”

Alex was struck, not for the first time, by how tall Lindsey was, how broad her shoulders were. Her eyes were crackling with anger, but that didn’t matter to Alex. She took a step forward, worming her hands under the bottom of Lindsey’s tee shirt.

“What then? Are you going to put me in my place? Hm?” Then the warmth of Lindsey’s skin was gone and she was being shoved away, stumbling into her bed.

“You’re not getting me naked, Alex.”

“Oh because you’re so high and mighty? The Great Horan can’t even eat normally, don’t you judge me-”

“Fuck off.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of their room, slamming the door behind her.

Alex grabbed her water bottle off of her dresser and hurled it at the door, then slumped back against her pillows, finally giving in to the tears.

**Patient: Jessica Marie McDonald**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Postpartum Psychosis**

**Treatment: Risperidone; Lithium; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

She never wanted to have kids.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids; they were fine, she was more than happy to babysit for her cousins when needed or to help out in her church nursery. Or maybe it wasn’t that she _never_ wanted to have kids, but not until much later in life. She loved sports, she held school records in track and she had been on the state champion basketball and soccer teams. Colleges were looking at her, and she had been so excited at the prospect of getting out of Glendale and making a life for herself.

But that was all gone now.

“I noticed you didn’t have any family come for visitation weekend.” Jill gently prodded.

Jess shook her head, rubbing at her eyes. “It’s too far to drive from Arizona and flights are expensive. Not to mention my dad would have had to ask off and the Base is really strict about stuff like that. And my mom of course is…”

“Is…?” Jill prompted.

“She’s taking care of the baby.”

“I see, I see. Do you miss them?”

“My parents?” Jill nodded. “Sure. I miss watching tv with them, my dad trying to teach me about cars, going to church on Sunday.”

“Do you miss the baby?”

She looked at her blankly. “I don’t even know him. Sometimes I’m not even sure he’s real.”

Jill furrowed her eyebrows. “As in… you’re having hallucinations again?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I know he exists. I have the pictures of him and I have the stretchmarks and I remember the blinding labor pains. He exists, I know that. But I don’t…”

“You don’t what?”

“Nothing,” she said softly.

“You can be honest about your feelings in this space, Jessica. I’m not going to judge you.”

“I don’t… feel anything towards him,” she whispered.

“That’s understandable. Postpartum psychosis is very serious-”

“But I’m supposed to be better now! I’m not having the manic episodes anymore, I’m sleeping… but I still don’t love him.”

“Well, to be fair, you also haven’t spent a lot of time with him.”

“Which I know I should feel bad about,” Jess sighed. “But I just don’t. I didn’t ask for him. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Let’s steer clear of saying what one should or shouldn’t feel.”

“I’m a shitty mom.”

“No, you’re just young and in pain-”

“I wish I could back in time and never even meet Courtney!” she interrupted, the words bursting out of her. “I wouldn’t smile at him in the hallway, I wouldn’t give him my number, I wouldn’t go out with him. None of it.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’d have my life back. I went from one of the best athletes in the entire state of Arizona to someone who couldn’t run around the block without milk leaking into my sports bra, without feeling like my hip sockets were made of tissue paper. He destroyed my body, and it’s never going to be like it was before.”

“Birth is admittedly very hard on-”

“Hard?” Jessica laughed. “You’ve obviously never had a baby you didn’t even want ripped out of your body.” She let out a slow breath. “For as much as I fucking hated being pregnant… it was like my body didn’t want to let him out, because it knew that this side of birth would be even worse.”

“Did you ever consider terminating the pregnancy?”

She shrugged. “For a minute. The idea of getting to just… take care of it, forget about it, go back to my life was so nice. But then Courtney told his mom, and his mom told my mom, and then it wasn’t an option anymore.”

“Why?”

“My mom is prolife. She says that abortion is murder.”

“Do you believe that?”

She stared hard at the wall. “I believe that I should have driven into oncoming traffic the moment I saw the second pink line on the test.”

Jill closed her notebook and leaned forward. “Jess, can you see why it worries me when you say things like that?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to do anything. The damage is already done. My life is already ruined.”

“Ruined is a strong word. You don’t think there’s anything bright in your future?”

“No. I’ll never get to go to college-”

“That’s not true. Many teen mothers go on to earn their college degrees.”

She shot Jill a look. “Oh yeah. Taking online classes while covered in spit up and baby shit. That’ll be just like getting to play D1 soccer.”

“You don’t think you can learn to be happy with your life?”

She jumped to her feet. “It’s not my life anymore, don’t you see? Everything about me is tethered to that stupid baby, he’s destroyed everything!”

Jill looked at her calmly, seemingly unaffected by her outburst. “That stupid baby is your son, Jessica. His name is Jeremiah.”

She gave her a dirty look. “I know what his fucking name is,” she spat, then stormed out of the office.


	6. And I was by your side, powerless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiii.
> 
> Sorry this is out later than normal.

_'_ _I watched you fall apart and chased you to the end  
_ _I'm left with emptiness that words cannot defend_   
_You'll never know what I became because of you_   
_Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose_

_And you held it all_   
_But you were careless to let it fall_   
_You held it all_   
_And I was by your side, powerless'_

Powerless, Linkin Park

**Patient: Tierna Lillis Davidson**

**Age: 14**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Tierna hurried through the breakfast line, barely paying attention to what she was putting on her tray in her hurry. She strode across the room and dropped her tray onto one of the tables, making the other inhabitants jump.

“Tierna,” Alyssa reprimanded quietly.

“I have great news,” Tierna responded.

“You’re going home?” Mal asked from further down, her face a mask of worry.

“What? No.” She sat down on the bench and pulled the magazine she had brought with her out from under her oatmeal. “No, last night I read the coolest article. It’s all about addressing super rotation in planetary atmospheres.”

Alyssa blinked at her calmly, taking a bite of yogurt. “T, I have no idea what that means.”

Tierna barely paused. “Basically it’s when the planet is revolving at one speed, like this,” she picked up a strawberry and plunked it into her cup of coffee, “Picture that the strawberry is revolving. But the planet’s atmosphere is revolving way faster like this,” she picked up her spoon and began to swirl it through the coffee, making it spill over the sides. “Does that make sense?”

“Uh, kind of.”

“It’s a huge thing because it feels like it should defy the laws of physics. And we’ve observed it quite a bit in other solar systems, but here in ours, the only known examples are Venus and Titan, which as I’m sure you know is the largest moon of Saturn.”

Alyssa nodded. “Right.”

“But the great news is, we just got new data from Akatsuki, the orbiter mission that Japan set up for this exact purpose, and it has all kinds of cool new theories about the atmospheric angular momentum budget, specifically what controls it.”

“That’s really nice, T.”

She gave her a dorky smile. “Yeah. It is nice. And anyway, I brought you the magazine in case you want to read it. There’s also an article of insect populations.” She passed it to Alyssa who looked down at it with a genuinely happy smile.

“Thanks, Tierna.”

“You’re welcome.” She plucked the strawberry from her coffee, popping it into her mouth before quickly grimacing and spitting it out.

“Ewwww,” Mal laughed.

Tierna grinned, “That was disgusting.”

“I did have a question,” Alyssa said, fishing a book of crosswords out of her bag. “Seven letters, idea poker straight, second letter C.”

Tierna took the book and thought for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Ace high?”

Alyssa took it back and nodded after a few seconds, penciling it in. “Thanks, T.”

“Of course.” She gave her a smile and they both went about eating their breakfasts.

**Patient: Megan Anna Rapinoe**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Alcohol, Cocaine)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Ashlyn flopped down in the chair next to Pinoe as they all filed in for group therapy. “Today fucking blows.”

Pinoe cocked her head to one side. “I mean, yes. Always. But any reason in particular?”

The taller girl shrugged. “Everything. I’m hot and I’m tired and I hate when we have that gross ass Salisbury steak. But…” She sighed. And lowered her voice. “More than anything I just want to get high. I need it. I would kill for even just one pill right now. But I feel like I can’t even say that out loud without having some psychobabble bullshit spouted at me.”

“I feel that.” Pinoe shook her head. “I swear, I think the staff are he crazy ones sometimes.”

“And if I hear one more stupid saying…”

Pinoe laughed then pushed an imaginary pair of glasses up her nose. “You know Ashlyn, recovery is the only high that keeps getting better as you do it,” she parroted in a fake cheerful voice.

Ashlyn fake gagged. “God.”

“Whoever came up with that one has obviously never done shrooms.”

“Yeah?”

Pinoe leaned back in her chair with a grin. “Oh yeah. There was this one night when we all took them then just walked through town. The same town we’d all grown up in, but suddenly it was like we were touring the most beautiful city in Europe, and everything was great and fun. Well, except for Rachael, who ended up having the worst trip of her life,” she laughed. “Like at one point we came across a dog in a yard and the rest of us were talking about how sweet and cute it was, and that bitch thought it was the big bad wolf.”

“That would be my luck if I ever decided to try shrooms,” Ashlyn chuckled.

“Yeah, she never really did anything with us after that. She just stuck to vodka.” Pinoe sighed. “Which I guess was the right choice, seeing as she’s at home and I’m stuck here having to vomit up bullshit about my feelings.”

Ashlyn was quiet for a second. “Do you ever wish you never would have gotten into this? Like, any of it?”

Pinoe shrugged. “Not really, but I also don’t really have a problem. My parents only sent me here because they were so freaked out about my brother getting arrested.”

“How is Brian?”

Pinoe shrugged, brushing at the legs of her sweats. “He’s alright. I haven’t gotten a letter in a few weeks, but the last time I talked to my mom she said he was okay.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah… I mean, I’m worried about him. He tells me not to be, but I am. I mean it’s… prison’s no joke.”

“Nope. The first time Chris got busted for pot I would just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing. How long is his sentence?”

“Sixteen years, maybe less for good behavior, but,” she shrugged with a grimace, “good behavior isn’t always Brian’s style, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright everyone, enough chit chat, let’s get down to business. Today we’re going to be talking about times when we have felt powerless. Now it’s something that we all feel, because it’s a normal human emotion, but that doesn’t mean that anyone likes it. Even the most ‘go with the flow’ among us dislikes feeling like they have no control. I have an exercise for us to do today, everyone number off one to six, then pull your chairs into smaller groups..”

Pinoe suddenly found herself sitting with Sam, Morgan, and AD. Glennon gave them all a postcard that was blank on both sides. “Okay. I want everyone to take a moment and really think hard about a time when you felt absolutely powerless. Then on one side I want you to draw the story of what happened, it doesn’t have to be a painting by Renoir, it can just be stick people with dialogue bubbles. Then on the lined side, I want you to write what you wish you could say to the other person involved. And then whenever everyone in your group is finished, I would like you all to share your stories with each other. Any questions?” Everyone shook their heads, looking less than pleased at the idea of being vulnerable with each other and she smiled. “Alright, hop to it!”

Pinoe stared down at her postcard uncomfortably. She didn’t want to think about being powerless; who did? She squeezed her eyes shut and thought hard, then reluctantly began to draw.

After twenty minutes, Glennon began going from group to group, gently prodding them into sharing. When everyone in their group was done, Pinoe looked around. “I don’t suppose anyone wants to go first?” When the three girls stared at her she sighed. “Cool. I’ll go then.”

She held up her postcard. “My parents didn’t tell me I was coming here. I had been in trouble for coming home late from a party, breaking curfew or whatever, and my mom ended up going through my room without me knowing. She found coke in my closet and then she and my dad found this place and made the decision. I came home from school one day to find them both waiting for me in the living room. They told me to hug my twin then my dad drove us to the airport. I had no idea what was happening, I didn’t even get to pack my own bags. My mom and I got on a plane to Pittsburgh and then Dawn met us in the van. It wasn’t until we pulled up outside that I really knew what she had done. And I guess… I guess if I could say something to my mom it would be that she should have given me another chance. I could have stopped doing coke at any point, but she just made the decision without even talking to me. She just sent me away.”

AD gave her a hard look. “You’re here because you’re an addict, P.”

Pinoe scoffed. “I’m here because my mom is scared of me turning out like my brother.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You go, since you apparently have all of the answers.”

AD held up her postcard. “This is a picture of the hospital where my dad was diagnosed with cancer.” Pinoe’s cheeks went red, embarrassed that she had made an ass of herself. “We had known for a while that something was wrong. He was constantly coughing, he was losing weight, and he seemed to sleep all hours of the day. It got to the point where he could never catch his breath and then all of a sudden, he was coughing up blood. And when he went in…” she took a deep breath, “It was stage 2 mesothelioma. They, they said that he was lucky. That a lot of people didn’t catch it until stage 3 or 4. They said that he could do surgery and chemotherapy, and… and that could maybe give him two years.” She paused for a few moments, clenching her jaw. “I wish I could tell that doctor that two years is _not_ lucky. I was only 15. Two years meant that he wouldn’t see me graduate, that he wouldn’t get to teach my brother how to shave, that he wouldn’t walk my sister to her first day of junior high. Two years is nothing. And then he-” She cut off abruptly. She took several deep breaths, clenching and relaxing her hands. “Two years isn’t lucky.”

After a long stretch of silence, Sam cleared her throat. “Um… I can go? But mine isn’t like…” she trailed off, her eyes darting to AD, then back to the other two girls. “I guess I had a hard time picking one because, well because my anxiety makes me feel pretty powerless most of the time. But the time I chose was when I a kid, probably eight or nine. We went to Six Flags, and really I was having a good time. Cotton candy was and is my favorite food,” she said with a little laugh. “Not to mention all of the hot dogs, pretzels, popcorn, I love amusement park food. And I liked the rides too! Bumper cars, the tea cups, the scrambler… Then my sister, Kristie, convinced me to go on the Batman roller coaster.”

She swallowed thickly. “My parents weren’t paying attention, they were talking about where to eat dinner or something. So we got in line. And I was so tall that even though I was a kid they still let me on. And so they snapped the bar down and I was nervous but trying not to show it, I wanted to be brave like Kristie. But then, just as the ride started, my mom came screaming to the front of the line, demanding that they get me off, that I was too small, that my shoulders would slip through, that I would fall off. And seeing her face and hearing her voice, I was terrified. I immediately wanted to get off, but it was too late. It was already going.” Sam began to pull at the collar of her shirt, her breath unsteady. “It was… we were going so fast, dropping so far. And in that moment all I could think was that I was going to die. That this was it. And Kristie was holding onto my hand, telling me I was okay, but I was so scared. And I wish I could go back tell the attendant to let me off! I was too little, they should have let me off when I said.”

Glennon, who had come to stand beside Pinoe right as Sam started, gave a little hum. “Are they the only person you would want to say something to.”

“I… yes?” Same stared at her apprehensively, licking her lips. “Who else?”

“Well, do you have anything to say to your sister about that day?”

“No. Kristie was young, too.”

“I see. And what about your mom?”

“No! She was just trying to keep me safe!”

“Okay. That’s a-okay. Thank you for sharing,” Glennon soothed before moving to the next group.

“Mine’s embarrassing,” Morgan mumbled. She sighed and looked down at her her postcard. “I had my first boyfriend when I was a freshman. He was a junior, but I liked him so, so much. And he invited me over one night when his parents were gone, and we were watching a movie, then we were making out, and then…” She shrugged. “Then we had sex. I hadn’t done it before, but he had. And… I don’t know. It’s not like he pressured me or anything, but I knew that he and his ex-girlfriend had. And I knew that we would eventually so I decided to just get it over with. It didn’t feel… great, but it didn’t hurt as badly as some of my friends said it would. And I felt closer to him, y’know?” She swept her hair over her shoulder. “And so we’re laying there, in his bed, naked, and he just turns to me and tells me he thinks that we should break up. That he doesn’t see it working out with me.”

“What?” Pinoe gasped.

Morgan nodded. “Yeah. And I was… I mean I probably was already dealing with depression and anxiety stuff, but it just devastated me. I felt so… used. Like I think on some level I already knew that he mainly just wanted to have sex with me, but, but he didn’t even bother to wait! So I was just crying and crying… And he got up and began to get dressed, told me he would take me home. But I was so upset that I refused, and I walked home even though it was like three miles.”

“Men are trash,” AD grimaced.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “But I guess I would want to say to him… that what he did was mean. It was cruel, and I deserved better. He made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And also I want to tell him that he has a small dick,” she added with a slight smile, earning a laugh from the other three. “And here’s the picture I drew.”

“Oh! Sorry, here’s the front of my postcard,” Sam said, showing hers as well. “There’s me and there’s Kristie, and that scary looking scribble is the roller coaster.” She turned back to Morgan. “Wait so have you had sex since?”

She shook her head. “No, that was only like six months ago.”

“Have you?” she asked Pinoe.

“Well… not with a dude. But I’ve like, y’know experimented a little bit with a few girls.”

“What about you?” Sam demanded of AD.

She laughed. “I’m a black lesbian in the middle of bumfuck Kansas, who exactly do you think I’m having sex with?” They all laughed again.

“Wait, have you Sam?”

Sam gave Morgan an overwhelmed look. “Are you kidding? I’m taller than pretty much every single guy at my high school. Plus, knowing my luck I would get pregnant, can you even imagine? Me trying to take care of a whole baby?” They all laughed at the idea of Sam being in charge of a tiny person and then the bell chimed, signaling that it was time for individual therapy.


	7. We all need someone to hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, happy thursday!

_'You were alone, left out in the cold_   
_Clinging to the ruin of your broken home_   
_Too lost and hurting to carry your load_   
_We all need someone to hold_   
  
_You’ve been fighting the memory all on your own_   
_Nothing worsens, nothing grows_   
_I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain_   
_We all need someone to stay_   
_We all need someone to stay_   
  
_Hear the fallen and lonely cry out_   
_"Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?_   
_The end of the day and we're helpless_   
_Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?"'_

Someone To Stay, Vancouver Sleep Clinic

**Patient: Kelley Maureen O’Hara**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: ADHD; Anger management issues (suspected Intermittent Explosive Disorder)**

**Treatment: Adderall; Valproic Acid; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Anger Management**

It was their free time and Kelley had commandeered the air hockey table, challenging anyone who hadn’t already been driven crazy by her insane competitive spirit. Today’s taker had been Emily, and she had managed to eek out a few victories against the older girl.

Not this time, though.

“Goal! Fuck yeah!” Kelley yelled, throwing her hands up.

“Kelley,” Dawn reprimanded, her eyebrow quirked. “Knock it off, please.”

“Sorry!” she sang out, not the least bit repentant. She turned to grin at Emily, but found the girl still and somber, her eyes a million miles away. She walked closer, her eyebrows furrowed. “Emily?”

She jerked her head up, cheeks red. “Hm? Oh. C’mon let’s play again! You only won ‘cause I was going easy on you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine-”

“Why… do you do that?”

“Do what?” Emily mumbled.

“You… change so fast. One minute you’re fine, having fun, laughing, and then the next you’re shrinking away.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Kelley dismissed coolly. “Pinoe! Your turn.” She threw her paddle at her and grabbed the arm of Emily’s sweatshirt, dragging her to sit in the armchairs against the wall. “What is it?”

“I just… I don’t like when people yell.”

“Why?”

“It… it reminds me of home.”

It felt like someone had dropped a brick into Kelley’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

“My dad. He yells a lot. He gets angry easily.”

“Oh. Yeah, my mom and dad can be the same way.”

Emily raised her head. “Really?”

“Yeah. When they’re mad at me, which honestly feels like most of the time, they just,” she chuckled darkly, “they scream, for hours and hours.”

“It’s not fair,” Emily said quietly.

“No,” Kelley agreed.

“And maybe… maybe it would be easier if I were more like Emma.”

“I mean, you’re twins.”

“I know. But it’s always felt like Emma’s the pretty one. The smart one. The polite one. The str-” She cut off, causing Kelley to look at her curiously.

“What?”

“The… the straight one,” Emily admitted in a mortified whisper, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

“Ah.” Comprehension dawned in Kelley’s eyes. “They didn’t take you coming out well?”

“I never even really came out. When I was like, 11, I was talking to Emma in the kitchen, not realizing anyone else was home. And I started talking about this girl at school, how cute she was, and how I wished I could go to the winter dance with her instead of some stupid boy. And then all of a sudden Emma’s eyes were big, and I turned around and there was my dad. He was so mad.” The last part was a faint whisper.

Kelley scratched at the back of her neck. “Maybe um… maybe you should talk to Jill about that.”

“What? No.”

“I know, I know. And listen, I’m normally not that person, but it’s obviously bothering you, y’know?”

She shook her head. “No. I would get in trouble. And my family, my dad-”

“Hey.” She put a hand on her shoulder. “You can talk to Jill. You can trust her. She can’t tell anyone what you tell her, unless you, like, kill someone or something.” Kelley knew that the last thing Jill cared about was whether or not any of them were gay.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Emily seemed to toss it over in her mind. “Okay. Maybe.”

Kelley squeezed her knee. “And someday, you won’t have to worry about who you come out to. It’ll all get better, I promise.”

**Patient: Tobin Powell Heath**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Alex, stop,” Tobin laughed, backing up against her dresser.

“C’mon, we’ve barely even hung out this week.”

“Okay, so you don’t want to watch a movie with me? I’ll paint your nails!” She teased, catching Alex’s hands and spinning them so that Alex was the one against the dresser.

“Please, like you’ve ever held nail polish in your life. And plus, I leave for California tomorrow! Aren’t you going to miss me?”

Tobin grinned. “Oh yeah. I’m totally gonna miss you on the hike tomorrow. I’m going to miss you freaking out about bugs and not wanting to get your hands dirty.”

Alex laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Excuse you, but I’m more than capable of getting my hands dirty.”

Tobin felt warmth begin to pool low in her belly. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mmhm.” Alex snuck a kiss to her cheek. “And if I remember correctly you like it when I use my hands.”

Tobin let herself be walked backwards to her bed. “If we get caught…”

“We won’t,” Alex soothed. “The staff has enough to worry about.”

“But still…” Tobin didn’t want to imagine what her dad would say if the clinic called to inform him that not only was she having premarital sex, but with another girl. He’d originally wanted to send her to a very different sort of clinic, saying that was the reason she was so depressed. He’d even made her attend a so-called ‘healthy sexuality’ conference, where she had been forced to sit through slide shows and presentations about why she was feeling this way and how she could get better, all the while being smiled at by middle aged men in suits and ladies wearing cardigan sets. It had been her mother who had put her foot down when Tobin had accidentally cut a little too deep and had needed stitches. She needed help, her mom agreed, but not at one of those places.

She was drawn back to the present by Alex pulling her shirt over her head. _God she was beautiful._ Of course, a secret, shameful part of Tobin wished that she were someone else, someone with dark curls and green eyes, someone sweet and shy who with just one smile could make Tobin feel like she was floating- No. She wasn’t going to think about Christen like that anymore. It was wrong: Christen was her roommate and her friend. She wasn’t attracted to Tobin and she needed to make her peace with that. If she kept pining after her, she would never feel better.

She took a step forward, placing a finger beneath Alex’s chin, tilting it upwards and gently kissing her lips. One thing led to another and suddenly Tobin was laying on her back, Alex kissing hurriedly down her stomach. She leaned back, letting her head rest on her pillow. Alex’s nails scratching up her thighs then hooking into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them to her knees. Then her mouth was on Tobin and she stopped thinking.

Her eyes clenched shut, her hands fisted in her sheets, twisting them as her breath began to speed up. She bit her lip, not wanting to moan out loud and alert anyone to what was happening in her room.

“Tobin.” The whisper was choked, barely audible, but it might as well have been a scream. Tobin’s eyes flew open, her body jerking upwards, her legs trying to snap together even though Alex was still there. But her eyes were glued to Christen, who was standing just inside of their room, her face a picture of distress.

“Chris, I, I-” But then she turned on her heel and stormed from the room without another word.

“She’s freaking out,” Alex said from her spot on the ground, crossing her arms.

“No shit,” Tobin muttered under her breath. She jerked her shorts and underwear back up, rushing to follow Christen from the room.

**Patient: Christen Annemarie Press**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder**

**Treatment: Clomipramine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Aversion Therapy**

She hurried down the hallway, avoiding any place where she knew staff would be but desperately needing to get as far away from Tobin as possible. She passed the kitchen and, seeing no one inside, darted in and closed the door.

The dark of the room made her feel slightly better, calmer, but it also gave her nothing to use as a distraction. She sucked in a deep breath trying to avoid the images that had been burned into her brain.

She had thought Tobin was in the rec room. She’d assumed she was part of the group playing monopoly, she should have checked before going to their room, if she had she would have realized, and then maybe she wouldn’t have seen Tobin-

God.

She knew that Tobin was gay.

She had gathered as much from the way Tobin would sometimes disappear with Alex, the way she would sometimes uncomfortably drop out of a conversation when the other girls were talking about boys, not to mention the very manner in which she carried herself-

Christen knew. She wasn’t blind or stupid.

And she didn’t care. She didn’t see why anyone should. Tobin hadn’t chosen her sexuality any more than she had chosen to have brown hair.

Christen wasn’t gay.

But she also wasn’t completely sure that she was straight.

She had lived a life blissfully unconcerned with dating. She had assumed that eventually she would find someone that she was interested in, but was almost relieved that she hadn’t.

Dating was… messy. It was messy emotionally and mentally, but also tangibly. She had listened to her older sister and girls at school talk about sex enough to know that it was gross. She had been more than happy to never do it, to not have to think about having someone else’s… stuff on her skin.

But on the other hand.

The image of Tobin, head thrown back, lip caught between her teeth, Alex between her-

It was a lot.

It was too much.

She couldn’t handle this, she couldn’t bare to think about this one second longer.

She walked to the sink and pulled open the cabinet drawers beneath. She found the Lysol at the very back and pulled it out along with some old, stiff sponges. She cringed at the thought of what kind of germs were already residing on the sponges, but then the image of Tobin flashed through her mind again and she resolutely took them in hand.

The kitchen had already been tidied post dinner but that by no means meant that it was clean. She began to scrub at the counters, determined to rid them of every last germ. With every hard pass of the sponge she commanded herself to forget what she had just seen.

Tobin.

Tobin with Alex.

Tobin having sex with Alex.

 _Why are you even upset about this?!_ the small, rational part of her brain screamed.

She didn’t like Tobin.

Well, of course she liked Tobin. Tobin was her best friend. Tobin was her roommate. Tobin did everything she could to make sure that Christen was feeling as safe and comfortable as possible.

But she didn’t _like_ Tobin.

Right?

A sick part of her brain recast the picture in her mind, so that this time it wasn’t Alex kneeling next to Tobin’s bed but Christen. And that was… Her stomach swooped as if she was riding some sort of roller coaster, and something felt _off_ in her underwear.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

She abandoned the sponge in the sink, instead picking up the stiff brush that was used to clean their plates. She sprayed the stove with the Lysol and began to scrub. The hard bristles were digging into her fingers but she pushed on, her eyes filling with tears as the onslaught of emotions hit her like a bus.

She did like Tobin.

She wanted to… do stuff with Tobin.

She scrubbed harder as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Christen?”

She froze, her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t move, as if by staying completely still, Tobin wouldn’t be able to see her in the poorly lit kitchen.

The kitchen light flicked on with a metallic buzz.

Fuck.

“Chris, are you okay?”

She resumed cleaning the stove, hoping that if she kept her back to her that Tobin would take the hint and leave her to her misery.

“Chris, please say something.”

She could feel her walking closer, until she was standing beside Christen, their bodies nearly touching, Tobin’s body that had just been-

Tobin reached out and took hold of her wrist and Christen flinched.

“You’re bleeding,” she said gently.

Sure enough, Christen realized that the bristles had cut into her fingertips, leaving pinkish swirls in the white suds on the stove top. She swallowed thickly at the sight, her stomach threatening to bring up everything she’d had for dinner.

Tobin corralled her towards the sink, flipping on the water and putting her hands in the stream. “We should get you gloves,” she whispered. She grabbed paper towels and Christen took them, clenching them in her fists.

“I need to wipe up-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go sit at the table.” Christen did as she said, her heel tapping against the ground.

After a few minutes, Tobin took a seat next to her. She took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

No, you don’t-”

“No, I am. It’s your room too and I, I should do better, I should… be better.”

Christen lifted her eyes to find Tobin staring resignedly at the wooden tabletop. “No! No, you’re… fine, Tobin. You’re doing something that’s completely… um, normal. It’s, I’m just a freak about it, like everything else-”

“You’re not a freak.” Her voice was harder now, surer. “You’re not. And I mean, I can wash my sheets when I go back to the room. I can see that it’s bothering you, I’ll tell the staff that I spilled something, or-”

“No you don’t have to.” When Tobin raised her head to meet Christen’s eyes, she could see the confusion residing there. “It’s not the- I mean it is. It’s, it’s gross. Or not, not gross like as in bad! I don’t think you’re bad! It’s not like, like I’m judging you. You should have sex with anyone you want. Or not, not _anyone_ , but I just mean… I’m not judging you because Alex is a girl and you’re a girl. I’m not.”

“I know,” Tobin replied, but she didn’t look convinced.

Christen grabbed her hand, shocking both of them in the process. “I’m telling the truth, Tobin. I mean, doing what… Alex was doing to you… does seem unhygienic,” she winced. “But it’s not because, because of who you are, because of what you are.” She could feel sweat starting to prickle along her hairline, god she was getting this all wrong.

“Chris, it’s fine-”

“It’s not because you’re both girls! Because you know, I’m a girl, and you’re a girl, and maybe if we-” she broke off, the words stuck in her throat. “Not that I’ve been, or that I’ve ever, but seeing you, you and Alex, made me think about-” She sucked in a breath. “Oh god.”

Tobin was staring at her now, her face unreadable. “Think about what?”

“Um.” She dug her nails into her thigh, trying to ease her discomfort, but Tobin saw and took that hand in hers too. “It made me think about… about what it would be like. If it were you and, you and me.” Tobin’s eyes widened and she rushed on. “Not that, that I’m saying we have to! I understand that you like Alex, that it’s not like that with us and you don’t have to-”

“Christen.”

“Um, yes?”

“Can… can I kiss you?”

“Uh…” her brain short circuited a bit. “I guess that depends, um did you do to Alex what she was doing to you?”

Tobin laughed slightly. “Um, no. Not tonight.”

“Oh. Then… okay.”

“Really?”

She nodded timidly. “Yeah.” And then Tobin was slowly leaning forward, her eyes flitting across Christen’s face, making sure this was truly okay, and then her lips were softly pressing against hers.

She let out a shuddery breath. There had been a few boys back when she was in elementary school that she had shared quick, giggly pecks with, but this… this was different. This was soft. This was sweet. Tobin’s hand came up to cup her cheek, and Christen pulled away from her lips, opening her eyes as she leaned into Tobin’s palm.

“Was that okay?” she asked.

Christen nervously smiled. “That was more than okay.”


	8. They could care less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello
> 
> Here's chapter 8 starring Lindsey having a meltdown and Alex going home to see her family

_'_ _The boys and girls in the clique  
_ _The awful names that they stick_  
 _You're never gonna fit in much, kid_  
 _But if you're troubled and hurt_  
 _What you got under your shirt_  
 _Will make them pay for the things that they did_

_They said all_   
_Teenagers scare_   
_The living shit out of me_   
_They could care less_   
_As long as someone'll bleed_   
_So darken your clothes_   
_Or strike a violent pose_   
_Maybe they'll leave you alone_   
_But not me'_

Teenagers, My Chemical Romance

**Patient: Crystal Alyssia Dunn**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Bulimia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Crystal sat down with her breakfast and sighed. Another day of oatmeal and fruit, not to mention a side of bacon. She eyed the bacon, seeing the way it was waxy with hardened fat. Just the thought of eating it made her throat threaten to close up. She put a blueberry in her mouth instead.

Julie sat down across from her. “I had the craziest dream last night.”

“Tell me.”

“I was back at home, and I woke up and my room was filled with water. But not like a flood way, like a Venice way, y’know? And my desk chair floated by so I got on it and paddled into the living room, and Obama was there.”

“Obama?” Crystal laughed.

“Yeah! Obama. And he turned around and looked at me and went ‘Everyone is looking for a way to escape their lives, when the best escape is but to live without restrictions.’ Isn’t that insane?”

“What do you think it means?”

Crystal rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “Probably that we need to bust the fuck out of this place.”

Julie laughed and Laura looked up from her own oatmeal. “What are you two whispering about down there?”

“Julie has the hots for Obama,” Crystal replied, winking at her best friend who immediately turned red.

“I… I do not!”

“Does so, she dreamt about him last night.”

“Michelle would kick your ass,” Lindsey teased.

“The woman’s arms are… insane,” Crystal agreed. She watched Lindsey for a moment, finally noticing how she was shoveling her breakfast into her mouth, a far cry from the normal routine at their table. “What’s gotten into you?”

Lindsey took a drink of her coffee. “Hike day! I’m stoked. I signed up for the Twin Lakes Trail, it’s supposed to be the hardest one in the area, and nearly nine miles.”

“Better you than me,” Julie winced. “I hate hiking.”

Lindsey spooned the last of her oatmeal into her mouth. “Nah, it’s a lot of fun. I used to go with my family a ton before I got so busy with soccer. It’s great exercise, burns a ton of calories.” It all suddenly clicked in Crystal’s mind. Lindsey didn’t mind eating breakfast this morning because she had already calculated it in her mind and knew that she would more than burn it off on the hike. It made Crystal wish she would have signed up for something harder than the Hector Falls Trail.

“Linds,” Laura warned. “You know better than that.”

Lindsey popped the last of her apple into her mouth. “Lighten up, Laura. It’s gonna be a great day! My roommate flew to California for the weekend, we get to go hiking and you get to take the day off. Everything is great.”

Laura’s mouth twisted up. “Um, I’m guessing that no one talked to you guys last night?”

“No?”

Laura gave a heavy sigh. “They were supposed to tell you guys yesterday during free time, I don’t know why… Anyway. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you guys don’t get to go hiking today.”

“What?” Lindsey asked.

“They… there’s been some flooding out at the state park and they don’t think the vans will make it. So instead you guys are going to have a bit of a lazy day here at the clinic. I think they were discussing having a Twilight movie marathon.”

“What?” Lindsey’s voice had turned hard and cold, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “No! Today is hiking!”

Crystal could see girls at the other tables beginning to turn and look at them, obviously wondering what was going on.

“Lindsey, I need you to calm down-”

Lindsey was on her feet. “No! I won’t calm down! Because you’re all a bunch of liars! You said that we would go hiking today, and you have to follow through!”

Laura kept trying to calm Lindsey down as other staff members began to walk over to provide assistance. “It’s not the end of the world, Linds. You girls will go hiking eventually, just not today.”

“But that’s not fair, I already ate for today!” Lindsey grabbed her now empty bowl of oatmeal from the table and hurled it at the wall, making Julie shriek as it narrowly missed hitting her.

The room was in chaos, Rory grabbing her arms from behind. Crystal turned to say something to Julie and saw her best friend spooning all of her own oatmeal out of her bowl on top of the shards of Lindsey’s bowl. Crystal quickly caught on, passing over her own bacon to be hidden too.

By the time Lindsey was hauled out of the room and Laura came back to their table, their plates were considerably emptier. She sighed and looked back and forth between the two. “How was the brekkie, ladies?”

“Good,” Julie answered softly, and Crystal smiled, feeling as if she managed to claw back some small control of her life.

**Patient: Alexandra Patricia Morgan**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder (see file notes)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Alex!” She could see Jeri waiting at the bottom of the escalator, waving her arm above her head. She smiled and waved back, giving her a hug as soon as she reached the terminal floor.

“Hi!”

“You’ve gotten tall, I think we’re the same height now!” Jeri pulled back to press on the top of Alex’s head. “What are they feeding you over there?”

“What can I say, I’m eating all my fruits and veggies.” She glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

Jeri’s face faltered slightly, but then her perfect, toothy smile was back in place. “Well Dad’s at work. Jeni had a check up of some sort today. And Mom wasn’t feeling well, she decided to lay down for a nap.”

“You mean she got too drunk while knocking back gin and tonics by the pool?”

Jeri ignored her, instead grabbing her suitcase. “I’m so excited that you’re home! I know that we have the baby shower tomorrow, but I thought we could hang out today. We’ll get lunch because I’m sure you’re starving, but then I went ahead and got you an appointment with your salon. I told her you would probably just need a trim, but if you want to get highlights or something you can! And then we can go and get manis and pedis, we can even go shopping if you want! I have the Amex, so it’s anything you want.”

Alex’s stomach ached. She was eternally grateful for Jeri, who was clearly overcompensating for the fact that the rest of their family couldn’t give less of a shit that Alex was home for the first time in months. But that didn’t stop the sting of abandonment.

“That sounds great,” she said hollowly.

Jeri did an amazing job of keeping up a steady stream of banal gossip as they went about their day, telling Alex everything she had heard about their friends and neighbors, including Alex’s old classmates. It wasn’t until they were driving home from the frozen yogurt shop that Jeri took a deep breath.

“So… what is it like? I mean, really? Mom and Dad didn’t really say much after their visit, and I’ve looked at pictures online, but I’m sure it’s not the same.”

She sighed. “It’s… fine, I guess. I mean I hate not having my freedom to do whatever I want, and the staff can be super annoying, but it’s nice enough. I think I’ve made a couple friends.”

“What do you do for fun?”

Alex shrugged. “Have orgies, mainly.” Jeri slammed the breaks of the car and Alex laughed. “I’m kidding, Jer. We… I don’t know. We do puzzles, we watch movies, we go on lame little excursions. Normal stuff.”

Jeri smacked her in the arm and resumed driving. “Don’t say stuff like that, Lex. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She turned pulled up to a red light. “How has it been, being without sex?” Even while Jeri was at college, she remained Alex’s closest confidant and friend.

Alex shrugged again. “Well, I haven’t.” When her sister tried to smack her again, she squirmed away. “What?”

“Please, you’re not gay, Alex. You’ve more than proved that over the years.”

She laughed. “What does that have to do with it? If you go to a restaurant and there’s no meat on the menu, you have to order a vegetarian meal or starve.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jeri muttered under her breath, pulling into their long driveway. Once they were inside the garage, Alex put her hand on her sister’s arm.

“Hey. I just, just wanted to say thank you. For today. Thanks for picking me up and making it a great day.”

Jeri pulled her into a hug. “Of course, Lex. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jeri gave her a soft, sad look. “Thank you for saying that.” When Alex had been diagnosed with antisocial personality disease, the therapist had explained that she didn’t feel emotion the way everyone else did, that she was incapable of feelings like love or remorse. For the most part she didn’t think about what that meant, but it apparently was always on her family’s minds. Even when she swore that she really did love someone, they told her that she was manufacturing it. So finally she just agreed. She thought she felt love, but if a professional said she didn’t, that didn’t leave much room to argue.

Once inside, Jeri went straight upstairs to her room, while Alex crept towards the master suite at the back of the house. She pushed the door open to find it dark other than the flickering light of the television. Her mom was propped up in bed, makeup still intact, eyes closed. Her shoes had been kicked off just inside the doorway and a half full high ball glass was on the nightstand.

“Mom?” she asked quietly. She padded closer, gently shaking her. “Mom, I’m home.”

“Hm? Anya, I’m fine, just leave-” Her eyes cracked open and peered blearily at her. “You’re not Anya.”

“Hi Mommy,” she whispered.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.” She waited but her mother just stared. “I missed you.”

She snorted. “Of course you did, baby. Of course you did.”

Alex swallowed back hurt at the disdain in her mother’s voice. “Go wash off your makeup,” she finally replied, voice icy.

Her mother just sighed and turned her head, her eyes drifting shut. After just a moment, a soft snore came from her mouth. Alex leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight.”

She left the room and went for the stairs, but bumped into a large, imposing man on the way. “Hi, Daddy.”

He gave her a cynical look. “What were you doing back there?”

“I, I was just telling Mom goodnight.”

He loosened the tie at his throat. “So I won’t find anything missing?”

She sighed. “Would you like to search my pockets?” she asked sarcastically.

“When did you get in? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Why didn’t you come with Jeri to meet me at the airport?”

He brushed past her. “I’m a busy man, Alex. Someone has to work to provide the money to fix all of your little screw ups. Would it hurt you to be a little grateful?”

She walked to the stairs. “I mean, I might pull a muscle.”

X

The baby shower the next day proved to be an absolute nightmare.

It was being held at Jeni’s house, the one that had been an engagement present from her old money fiancé. They’d only been married for a little over a year and Jeri was just a few weeks from giving birth. Alex had to hand it to her sister; she’d locked down a wealthy man and now she was doing what was necessary to set herself up for life. Their mother must be so proud.

Speaking of their mother, she had managed to pull herself together beautifully for the occasion. To look at her, you would never know that the night before she had been dead drunk on gin. Now she was showered and impeccably made up in a Dolce & Gabbana dress from this year’s spring collection. She had a glass of champagne in her hand, sure, but even she wouldn’t be stupid enough to get sloppy today. Everyone was on their best behavior.

Everyone was also exceedingly concerned that Alex do the same.

“Remember,” her father had hissed as they climbed into the back of the town car, “If anyone asks where you’ve been, you were accepted to a very prestigious study abroad program in France.”

“You’ve been too busy to post any pictures. Everything is très magnifique,” her mother added.

“You mean don’t tell people about the court mandated trek to the psych ward?” Alex asked sarcastically.

Her father took off his glasses. “Alexandra, you will not mess this up for Jennifer, do you understand?”

“I was obviously kidding,” she huffed.

Once at the party, she put on her picture perfect Alex Morgan smile, and began lying through her teeth. She tried to talk to Jeni some, but to her dismay found that her sister had been reduced to a simpering idiot, one hand on her stomach at all times as she recounted the highlights of her pregnancy so far.

Halfway through the party, Alex escaped upstairs, wanting a moment of peace and quiet. She looked at the pictures lining the walls, and retraced her steps to the master bedroom with it’s en suite. As she reached for he doorknob, it pulled open revealing Grayson, her brother in law.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be up here.”

“It’s no worries,” he grinned, eyes bright and cheeks a little red. She could see that while Jeni had been eating for two, he had been drinking for two. “What are you sneaking away for?”

She waved a hand. “No, nothing, I’m not… it was just a little loud.”

“Too loud for you? Not from what I’ve heard.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s always so nice to have the baby of the family back home. Not that you look like a baby. You’re stunning, Alex. A troublemaker for sure, straight up jailbait, but gorgeous.” His hand slid down her arm, lingering the same way his eyes were lingering on the v neck of her dress. “If you were only a little bit older…”

“I’m your sister in law,” she reminded him forcefully.

He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, Jeni’s great. She’s beautiful and I love her. But… she’s kinda vanilla, y’know? And that’s fine for making babies, but you-” The hand not stroking her elbow pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I bet you’re a real tiger in the sack.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re a slut.” He shrugged. “Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. That you can’t even count the number of guys you’ve screwed.”

She took several steps forward, backing him against the wall. “Oh that’s what you’ve heard, hm? So have you thought about it? About what it would be like to nail your wife’s little sister behind her back? I bet you’ve thought about me in all kinds of positions, haven’t you?”

She could see him swallow thickly. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping to her lips. “I’ve fantasized about you.”

She leaned in close to his ear. “Well guess what, Grayson? I am a tiger in the sack. But you know what else? I’m a tiger 24 fucking 7, and if I ever find out you cheated on my sister, the mother of your child, you’re going to regret it.”

He jerked back, smacking his head into the wall behind him. His face flushed, not from alcohol or lust, but anger. “No offense but who would believe you? Everyone knows that you’re fucking crazy.”

She smiled at him, her eyes hard as steel. “Oh I’m not going to tell anyone anything. That’s much too dignified for a _crazy slut_ like me. No, if I find out you have ever cheated on Jeni, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat. And that’s a Morgan Family promise. You think I’m crazy? You haven’t seen anything.” She tapped him lightly on the cheek and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She gripped the edge of the sink, letting out a harsh breath. She had just wanted one moment, just a few beats of silence before she had to go back downstairs and pretend to be the picture perfect girl she was expected to be, but no, of course that was too much to ask.

Anger surged through her body, followed by the need to punish, to destroy. She opened the medicine cabinet and began to poke through it, not even sure what she was looking for. Then her eyes fell on a little orange bottle labeled Ritalin. She picked it up and opened it, counting the pills inside. She grabbed a tissue from the counter and carefully counted out ten, leaving four in the bottle. _Try to think about me now, fuck face._

She returned the pills to the cabinet and pulled open a drawer, finding Jeni’s makeup. She picked up a tube of red lipstick and carefully applied it. If it didn’t matter that she was going to therapy, trying to be better, if everyone was still going to treat her like some dirty secret, then that’s the part she would play.


	9. Someday I'll find peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you're having a great day!

_'Wish I, I could find the words to say_   
_Words to say to you_   
_Wish that you could see the other way_   
_Someday_

_Someday, I'll be better_   
_Now that you're gone, I'll burn all your letters_   
_And right all your wrongs_   
_Right now, I am barely off of my knees_   
_But someday, I’ll find peace_   
_Someday, someday, someday, I’ll find peace'_

Peace, Alison Wonderland

**Patient: Rosemary Kathleen Lavelle**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder**

**Treatment: Clomipramine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Aversion Therapy**

Rose hummed to herself as she walked along the hallway to breakfast. They had upped her dosage of meds and by all accounts it seemed to be helping. She no longer felt like the world was poised to fall around her, as if the only thing keeping her safe and healthy were her compulsions. She had also been doing lots of work with Jill in her therapy sessions.

She was feeling… normal. She was feeling happy.

She was feeling like someday she might get to go home and live life with her parents and siblings, like she could maybe handle school, could handle the teasing, the bullying. Maybe she could go to college someday, could hold down a job and find a partner to share her life with.

Maybe everything would be okay.

She made herself a piece of toast with jam, and then carefully selected seven strawberries and arranged them on her plate. She took it to her normal chair and then grabbed a cup of coffee. Once she was settled in, she closed her eyes, doing the sign of the cross than reached for her rosary.

But it wasn’t there. Her eyes snapped open as she grappled with the collar of her shirt, feeling around for the chain of her rosary. When she couldn’t find it, she quickly pulled her shirt out, checking to see if it had fallen into her sports bra.

“What are you doing, Rose? Did you just realize you have boobies?” Emily asked with a grin.

“My necklace,” Rose whispered, feeling the dread crawling up her spine. “My rosary, it’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s gone!” She stood up, swallowing thickly. This was bad. This was very bad. That rosary was the last thing her grandmother had given her before… before she…

Before she died.

She turned and started to run from the room, but Dawn intercepted her as she stopped at the door to touch the door handle.

“Where are you going, Rosie?”

“My rosary.”

“What about it?”

“It’s gone, I have to, I have to find it.” As soon as she had performed the seventh touch she took off like a shot. She could feel Dawn hot on her heels.

“When did you take it off?”

“I didn’t! I never take it off because I can’t lose it!” She threw her door open and began to pull back her blankets and sheets. “Where is it?!” she screeched.

“Okay, let’s just take a breath, hm?”

“I can’t! I need it!” Her grandma had given it to her, had trusted her to take care of it. Without it, who was to say that Rose wouldn’t die next? Or her mom? Or one of her siblings? Or maybe one of the girls here?

“Okay listen, listen to me. It has to be here. You haven’t left the clinic in over a week, and you had it when you went to bed last night, yeah?”

“Yes I had it for prayers before bed and when I woke up this morning.” She spun around in the middle of the room, her hands pulling at her hair. “Where is it? Who would have taken it?”

“I’m sure no one-”

“Well it’s gone!” Visions filled Rose’s mind of her grandmother, so thin and frail in her hospital bed, the gown seeming to hang off of her at impossible angles. Her breath had rattled as she’d grabbed Rose’s arm with surprising force, dragging her closer and closer, until her spectral face had been just inches away. _Take this,_ she had said, pressing the silver and crystal beaded rosary into her hand. _This will keep you safe._ Her eyes had been locked on Rose’s, and she had watched as just moments later they went empty, a loud steady beep sending the room into chaos.

“Rose-”

“It’s gone and now I have nothing to protect me. This is it, it’s going to happen, I can’t stop it-”

“What is ‘it?’ What are you afraid of?”

“I’m going to die,” Rose choked out in a horrified whisper.

“No, love, no-” But Rose wasn’t listening. She threw herself onto her knees beside her bed, clasping her hands so hard that her knuckles turned white.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God-”

The door opened. “Rose?”

“Now maybe isn’t the best time, Becky.”

“I have your necklace.” Rose whipped around to see Becky standing just inside of their doorway, hand extended, her rosary glittering in her palm.

“You found it,” she breathed.

“Yeah, it was in the hallway. It must have fallen off on your way to breakfast. I tried to find you, but you had already-” she cut off as Rose threw her arms around her, burying her face in the older girl’s neck.

“Thank you. Thank you, Becky, you don’t understand what could have, what would have-” She pulled back and carefully took the necklace from her, examining where the chain had broken. She turned to Dawn. “I need to call my mom.”

“Love, you need to eat-”

“No! I have to call, I need to make sure nothing happened during the time I didn’t have it, and then I need to ask her to send me another to wear. I can’t risk losing this one.”

Dawn sighed and gave Rose a sad smile. “Alright, Rosie. Let’s ring your mum, but then I expect a clean plate.”

“I promise.” She turned back to Becky. “I can’t thank you enough, Becky. Really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

**Patient: Adrianna Nichole Franch**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Complicated Grief Disorder; Trauma (Loss of a Loved One)**

**Treatment: Desvenlafaxine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy; Grief Counseling**

“Any idea what we’re doing today?” Becky murmured under her breath.

AD shrugged. “Something dumb and useless, I’m sure.” She’d spent the majority of her time here undergoing grief counseling on her own. However, once Becky had come to the clinic they had found themselves doing it together. AD wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than doing it alone. “We’re outside so it must be something messy.”

Jill came bustling through the door, holding a large tub. “Good afternoon, ladies! I have an exercise for us to do today.” She began unloading several white, ceramic bowls as well as jars of paint and a hot glue gun that she plugged into one of the outdoor outlets.

“Alright, each of you grab a bowl.” They did as they were told. “Now this first step is easy. I want you to break your bowl.”

“What?” Becky asked, but AD didn’t hesitate, instead hurling her bowl at the tarp covered deck, watching as the bowl shattered.

“Great job! Your turn now, Rebecca.” She watched as Becky gave Jill a wary look then followed suit. “Alright now gather up your pieces, try not to grab each other’s.” She went about uncapping the paint, pouring them out in small dishes and handing over paintbrushes. “Now ladies, tell me about your bowls.”

AD sighed. “What do you mean? It’s just a bowl that’s now ruined.”

“Why is it ruined?”

“Because you had me throw it on the ground?”

“So it’s broken. Does that necessarily mean it’s ruined?”

“Well… yeah,” Becky snorted.

“Do these bowls remind you of anything?”

AD groaned, leaning back on her hands. “Are the bowls supposed to be our lives or some dumb shit like that?”

“Don’t love the language, but let’s expand more on that. Do you think your lives are broken?”

Jill began to talk, going on about how when a loved one passes it can feel like your life will never go back to normal, like you’re irreparably broken. Then she had them go about painting the shards with the paint she provided.

“Jill?” The three of them looked up to see Mark in the doorway. “Sorry, can I steal you for a moment?”

“Of course. Ladies, keep up the painting, I’ll be right back.”

Once it was just the two of them, AD rolled her eyes. “This is so fucking dumb.”

“I know. I don’t get why Jill thinks arts and crafts is suddenly going to bring me peace and clarity about my mom dying. Like, sorry but glitter glue isn’t going to fix it.”

“Exactly. This bowl won’t make my dad any less dead.”

Becky looked over as she dipped her paintbrush into the turquoise paint. “He died of cancer, right?”

She concentrated on the shard in front of her. She had painted it bright pink with thinking about it, and it was reminding her of her little sister, of the room that they shared at home. She carefully layered orange polka dots on top of it. “No. Suicide.”

She watched out of the corner of her eye as the wave of uncomfortableness shuddered through Becky’s body. “That- I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “He did have cancer. And they said they could treat it, but he still would have died within a couple of years. And even with insurance it would have been…” She pursed her lips, remembering both of her parents pouring over the papers at the dining room table. “Expensive. We would have had to take out all kinds of loans, we probably would have lost our house. So he… he declined treatment. And the doctors said that he would end up in a lot of pain. So he decided to…” She let out a slow breath. “I found him. That afternoon. He was in his truck, in the garage.”

“I’m really sorry, AD.” Becky finished painting a piece of her bowl completely black. “I think my mom might have committed suicide.”

“Really?”

Becky nodded. “My parents got a divorce when I was fourteen. It was… bad. Awful. Somehow, they went from two people who loved each other to people who lived together but ignored each other, to people who actively loathed the other person and wanted to see them suffer. My brother and I were just… pawns, things to be used in the divorce. And when it came down to custody, I chose to live with my mom. I just… it felt like she needed someone to take care of her. But for as furious as that made my dad, it didn’t make my mom any happier. She didn’t have a job, she didn’t have friends that weren’t their friends. She was just… a shell of a person. So when she didn’t come home one night and then the police showed up saying she had been in an accident… I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t an accident.”

“That blows,” AD said softly.

“Of course, then I had to move in with my dad, who like, hated me at that point for choosing my mom. And it all just kind of spiraled from there.”

“Do you think it will ever hurt any less?”

Becky sat up straighter, seeming to really ponder the question. “Maybe. Maybe one day, a couple years from now, I’ll wake up and I won’t feel like my chest is so full of anger and sadness that I can’t move. I won’t need pills to get through the day, to pretend like I’m a normal human being. But… it’s not today. It’s not yesterday. And I don’t think it’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She looked over all the pieces in front of her. “I kinda feel like I’m stuck in one of those Groundhog Day situations, y’know?”

Becky gave a huffy chuckle. “Yeah. Like every day is the same, and you’re slowly going crazy, and you have to find some way to escape.”

“Exactly. Except I don’t remember the end of the movie. I don’t remember how he gets out of the loop. I don’t even remember _if_ he gets out of the time loop.”

“I guess all we can do is try the exercises they give us. I know that it doesn’t feel like they’re doing anything, but,” Becky sighed. “Trust me, neither does destroying yourself.”

“Sorry about that ladies, they had some car trouble going to pick Alex up from the airport. Are all of your pieces painted?” They nodded. “Excellent. Now the next part of this activity is gluing all of the pieces back together.”

“But it’s never going to be the same,” AD argued. “Even with hot glue, they’re never going to be watertight.”

Becky rolled her eyes with a smile. “It’s a _metaphor,_ ” she teased.

“That what, I’m going to leak for the rest of my life?”

“Let’s focus,” Jill gently redirected but AD let herself focus on how good it felt to smile again, even if it was making fun of this stupid project, and even if it was only for a moment.

**Patient: Alexandra Blaire Krieger**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: PTSD; Trauma (Sexual Assault)**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Lorazepam ( ~~as needed~~ emergencies only); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Ali and Ashlyn were laying on Ali’s bed, hungrily kissing each other as if they hadn’t been doing as much for nearly thirty minutes. Ali pulled back slightly. “Okay, but you said Pinoe is-”

“Forcing the staff and everyone to watch her put on a one woman show retelling all four Twilight movies, but ‘this time as the gay romance it always should have been.’ So we have time.”

“And she’s doing this because…”

“Because she lost when we were playing Gin yesterday,” Ash grinned. She gave Ali a soft kiss. “I just wanted to be able to spend some quality time with you today.”

Ali gently carded her fingers through Ashlyn’s hair. “Thank you. You’re so good to me, so nice.”

Ashlyn cupped her cheek with her hand. “Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”

Ali rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

“No, you are.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Everything about you is. Your face, your hair, your body… but also your soul.”

Ali giggled, giving her another kiss. “Charmer.” Anything she was going to say afterward was lost in a kiss, the two pressing closer and closer. Ashlyn’s hand made its way under Ali’s shirt and she was fine. She knew Ashlyn, she trusted her. So she was able to stay calm and present as fingers crept beneath her bra, massaging and kneading her flesh. And for her part she was just as into it, her fingers tugging at Ashlyn’s hair, mouth wandering down to kiss and lick and suck at the skin of her throat.

But then, seemingly of its own volition, one of Ashlyn’s hands wandered lower, grazing Ali’s ass and then along the back of her thigh before grasping behind her knee and pulling her closer, pulling her so that her leg was over Ashlyn’s.

Ali’s stomach immediately began to ache, her breath getting stuck in her chest. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her vision was filled with popping lights, dizzying colors, everything spinning until she thought she would be sick.

“Ash…” she managed to gasp out, and something her voice made Ashlyn stop cold. She removed both hands, pulling back so that she could look at her girlfriend.

“Ali. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I’m sorry.” Ali forced herself to breathe out. “I’m sorry, I thought I could-”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything-”

“Ashlyn.” She broke off, waiting as Ali rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Ashlyn stayed where she was, watching Ali. “Was it me grabbing your leg?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m, I’ll be okay. Just give me a second.”

“Can I do anything?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I’m really sorry, everything was going so good-”

“Ali. You don’t have to apologize. I’m serious.”

She fixed her gaze across the room, on the framed picture of Emily and her sister. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“I know-”

“Because I do! I do, you make me feel… it’s not a lack of want. It’s just…” She sighed and shook her head. “Just my fucked up mind.”

“Al, we don’t have to-”

“But I want to!” She turned to look at her girlfriend, tears building up in her eyes. “Do you get that? I want… I want you. I want to kiss you and touch you and do things with you without feeling like my body is a ticking time bomb.”

“What does… I mean, has Jill told you anything to help it not happen?”

She gave an angry, huffy chuckle. “Time. She just keeps telling me to take it one day at a time. That I shouldn’t rush it.”

“Well she’s right-”

“I’m tired of feeling like a freak. It’s my body, it’s, I shouldn’t, I…” She swallowed thickly. “He shouldn’t get to take this from me. He already took my virginity, my friends, my brother, my relationship with my parents, school… I don’t want him to take this, too,” she whispered.

“I’m right here,” Ashlyn assured her. “Can… can I hug you?”

Ali nodded and she moved to sit next to her, wrapping her arm around Ali’s shoulders and pulling her close as she began to cry. “How much longer will I have to wait?” she asked through her tears. “A year? Five? Ten?”

The door opened to reveal Nurse Julie standing with her hand on her hips. “There you two are. You guys know better than this, you know you can’t be- Ali, are you okay?”

She nodded, wiping under her eyes. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Just… sad. So Ash and I were talking.”

Julie’s eyes trailed over them and Ali could only imagine that her and Ashlyn’s hair was messed up, telling exactly what they had been up to before her body shut down. “Are you sure about that? Do I need to remind you that sexual relationships are not allowed-”

Ali jumped to her feet, giving her a glare. “Do I need to remind you that I’m a freak who can’t stand to be touched? So don’t worry about it.” She stormed past, taking off down the hallway even as Julie called after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, let me know what you think!!!


	10. The consequences that are rendered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days in a row! I hope this chapter finds you well

' _And all the things I can't remember  
_ _As fucked up as it all may seem_  
 _The consequences that are rendered_  
 _I stretch myself beyond my means_

_And it's been awhile_   
_Since I could say_   
_That I wasn't addicted_   
_It's been awhile_   
_Since I could say_   
_I loved myself as well_   
_And it's been awhile_   
_Since I've gone and_   
_Fucked things up_   
_Just like I always do'_

It's Been Awhile, Staind

**Patient: Samantha June Mewis**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Anxiety Disorder**

**Treatment:** **Alprazolam; Psychotherapy; Group Therapy**

“That’s cheating, you can’t have Sam!”

Tobin stuck out her tongue at Pinoe. “It’s not cheating! You could have chosen her and you went with Lindsey instead. I need Sam’s height.”

Sam smiled nervously at Tobin. “Are you sure that you want me? I’m actually pretty crappy at basketball. I know I should be better because I’m so tall, but-”

Tobin put a hand on her arm. “You’ll be fine. If we throw the ball to you, just lift it above your head so no one can touch it.”

“Fine, then I pick Kel.”

Tobin laughed. “Sure, but she’s kinda shrimpy.”

“She’s small but she’s a fucking bulldozer,” Pinoe amended. “She’s going to snap your ankles if you don’t watch out.”

“Woah, why are the cops here?” Lindsey asked, and they all paused to turn and watch as two cops made their way out of the building, giving them tight lipped smiles as they went back to their previously unnoticed squad car.

“I didn’t hear a siren or anything when they got here.”

“Maybe while we were at lunch?”

“Who’s in trouble?”

“Did we get someone new?”

Sam turned to look around the courtyard, taking a mental tally of the twenty three girls currently in residence. She was the first to notice the side door flinging open, hitting the brick wall behind it with a violent bang. Someone small and blonde came barreling through, it’s funny but Sam almost didn’t recognize Emily with such an angry look on her face.

“Em, what’s-”

“Kelley!” Kelley turned around and as soon as Emily was within range she pulled back her arm and punched her square in the mouth. “How could you fucking do this to me?”

Kelley only hesitated for half a second, stunned and blinking away pain before something in her body took over on instinct, and she hurled herself at Emily, sending them both tumbling onto the asphalt.

Staff ran over to separate the two, but not before Kelley got in a punch of her own and Emily flipped them so that she was on top. “You’re a bitch! You lied to me!” she screamed as she was pulled away.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Kelley yelled back. “I didn’t do anything to you!”

“She called the police, Kelley! You said it would be fine, that Jill wouldn’t tell anyone, and you were WRONG! The cops are involved and now they’re going to call the cops in Georgia, and I’m going to be in so much trouble! Do you get that? Do you realize how much you have destroyed my life?”

Kelley was being held back by Richie, but that didn’t stop her from trying to lunge forward. “In trouble for what? For being gay? That’s not a crime!”

Sam glanced back and forth in confusion. Kelley was right; being gay wasn’t a crime. Kristie had been out for years, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Why would Jill get the cops involved?

“Not about me being gay, you shithead. She told the police about him punishing me!” Everyone went very still, all of them staring at either Emily as her words sunk in. Sam on the other hand was looking at Kelley, and she saw the way her face fell, the look of understanding in her eyes, the way defeat seeped into her body.

“Em, I didn’t… I didn’t know you meant…”

The staff began to drag Emily back into the building, but her eyes never went to anyone but Kelley. “You’re a bitch. You betrayed me, I’ll never forgive you for this!”

Kelley pulled away from Richie, wiping at her lip with the palm of her hand. When it came away smeared with blood she leaned forward, spitting onto the ground.

“Kelley you need to get cleaned up-” Laura began but Kelley stormed back over to where Pinoe’s team was gathered.

“I’m fine.”

“Kelley-”

“I’m fine!” she bellowed.

Laura gave her a look. “Get inside. Go to a nurse and get your lip cleaned up.”

Kelley turned to stalk inside, knocking the basketball out of Pinoe’s hands as she did so. Sam raised her hand.

“I’m gonna go…” Laura sighed and gestured after her, and Sam turned, following Kelley inside. She checked at the nurses’s station but didn’t find Kelley there. She darted through the side door, making her way to the residential hallways.

Their room was dark, but Kelley was standing in the middle of it, hands on her hips, facing away from the door.

“Kel?”

“Don’t. Don’t come in here, Sam. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She shut the door and leaned against it. “Are you okay?”

She brought her hands to her head, pressing down as her body began to shake. “No. I’m not fucking okay.”

“Okay. That’s fine, you don’t… you don’t have to be.”

Kelley whipped around, her face twisted in rage. “How dare she? How dare she hit me, try to fight me when I did nothing wrong?”

Sam swallowed nervously. “She… she’s upset and she’s scared, and… well, you should know better than anyone that sometimes it’s easier to get mad at someone than face that.”

“Don’t.” She jabbed a finger at Sam. “It’s not the same.”

She pulled away from the door, walking closer to Kelley. “What happened?”

Her bottom lip trembled, her whole body seeming to waver on whether or not she should open her mouth again. “Last… last week, we were talking. I asked why she gets quiet sometimes. Like you know how we’ll all be fine and messing around, and then suddenly she’s not there? Kinda like Ali does?” Sam nodded. “She said it was because her dad gets angry a lot. And I thought, I thought it was like my parents, the way they scream for no reason. And she mentioned something about him not being okay with her being gay… I swear, I didn’t understand what she was saying! When I told her she should talk to Jill I just meant about her sexuality. I didn’t realize…”

“That her dad is an abusive piece of garbage?” They both turned to find Pinoe standing just inside the door leading to the bathroom, obviously having come through Mal and Tierna’s room.

“Do you mind?” Kelley huffed, but Sam put a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you say that?”

Pinoe folded her arms across her chest. “Back during parent visitation weekend. You were busy, fucking Alex I’m sure, but I overheard her talking to her twin. It sounded like… I don’t know. Like she was apologizing to Emma for not being home. And I didn’t get it until we walked back over and saw her dad, saw the way both of them cower away from him, saw the bruise on Emma’s wrist when she hugged Emily.”

Sam’s stomach ached. “Oh my god. But… why?”

Pinoe shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Kelley gasped and they both turned to look at her. “She told me… that Emma’s the golden child. That she never seems to quite measure up. He must…” She broke off, swallowing thickly, and the three of them stood in silence. 

“And I told her to tell Jill. Who told the police.”

“But… that’s a good thing, right?” Sam asked. “I mean, the police should know! This way they can keep Emma safe.”

“Unless they don’t,” Pinoe countered. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, Kel, but what are the chances of Georgia cops looking at a rich white dude and giving him anything past a slap on the wrist?”

Kelley hung her head. “Not great,” she whispered.

Sam put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “You didn’t know,” she reminded her.

“But if anything happens to Emma… Emily will never forgive me. She may never forgive me period.”

Sam rested her chin on top of Kelley’s head. “Maybe not.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” she grumbled.

“C’mon, Kel, let’s get your lip cleaned up so we can get back to our game.” Kelley followed Pinoe out of the room while Sam stopped to use the bathroom. On her way outside, she passed one of the conference rooms right as Marc led Emily out. She tried to give her a hopeful smile, something to let her know that everything would be okay, that they were here for her, but Emily just gave her a blank stare before letting herself be walked down the hallway.

**Patient: Ashlyn Michelle Harris**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Alcohol, Adderall, Marijuana); Anger Disorder; Depression**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Are you okay?”

Ashlyn lifted her head from her hands. “Hm?”

“Are you feeling okay?” JJ repeated from her bed.

She blinked several times, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. “Yeah, I just… I have a headache.” The truth was she was craving. At this point she didn’t even know what she was craving; pills, alcohol, weed, she just needed a little something to take the edge off.

“You should go get some Tylenol,” JJ suggested.

Ashlyn smiled. “I’ll be okay, but thanks. She looked closer at her roommate. “What are you doing over there?”

JJ looked up from her geometry textbook. “What? Nothing,” she answered in a rush.

“Yeah right. You’re just reading your math textbook for fun?”

JJ guiltily lowered it to her bed, revealing the sheet of notebook paper she had been staring at for the past twenty minutes. “It’s a letter. From Zach.”

“Ah. The ex boyfriend, right?” She nodded. “What did he do? Why did you break up?”

JJ shook her head. “No, he didn’t… it wasn’t like that. I just… I couldn’t. I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be, I couldn’t do girlfriend type stuff.”

Ashlyn turned to look at her fully. “He was pressuring you into sex?”

“No! No. He um… he’s saving himself for marriage like I am. But I couldn’t go out to dinner and stuff.”

“Oh.” Ashlyn chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Do you ever think you’ll stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Being anorexic.”

Julie shrugged, her body tense. “I mean… when I lose the weight, I’ll be fine. Once I’m skinny then everything will be okay.”

Ashlyn shook her head. “JJ… you’re already skinny.”

“No, but really skinny. You know, like Mal or Kelley.”

“They both outweigh you by like ten, fifteen, maybe twenty pounds.”

“No, they don’t-”

The door opened and Alex stepped inside. She glanced over at where Julie was sitting on her bed. “Get out.”

“What?”

“You can’t just order people around, Alex,” Ashlyn argued.

“I’m not ordering anyone around, I’m just _advising_ what the best course of action is.” She put a patronizing hand on Julie’s shoulder. “The big girls need to talk now. So go find a mirror to stare into or something.”

Julie folded up her letter and got to her feet, crossing to the door.

“JJ, no- Alex, what the hell?”

Alex pushed the door shut and gave her a bright smile. “Hi. I missed you.”

“I barely noticed you were gone,” she snarked back in annoyance.

Alex put her hands on her hips. “That’s not very nice.”

“Well, you’re not very nice, so I guess we’re even.”

Alex climbed onto Ashlyn’s bed, wiggling around till she was comfortable. “Mm, your bed smells like you.” Ashlyn didn’t answer, instead going back to the magazine she had been reading. Alex sighed. “Home sucked, as per usual.”

Ashlyn grunted in response.

She began to pick at her nails. “My mom was trashed. My sister just went on and on, as if she’s the first person on earth to ever have a baby. And my dad of course didn’t miss a chance to yell about horrible, bad, slutty Alex and the way she doesn’t care about anyone else.”

Ashlyn was still looking at the magazine, but Alex could tell she was listening. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. You know what sucks more?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so horny,” she complained, making Ashlyn snort.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Well?? You won’t sleep with me anymore because of Ali.”

“Tobin’s probably in her room next door.”

“She won’t sleep with me either, she’s gone completely goo goo over Christen,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Kelley?”

She shrugged. “She’s all riled up from whatever happened with Emily today. Anyway, she’s all mad and _not_ in a sexy way.”

“Sorry, sounds like you’re just gonna have to take care of yourself.”

“It’s not the same,” Alex whined. “Sure I can make myself come, but I want the other person, I want the breath on my ear, the weight against my chest.” She looked over at Ashlyn and slowly rose up on her knees. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I picked you up a little something.”

She fished the pills out of her pocket, holding them out for Ashlyn to see. “I know you’re an Adderall girl, but I brought you some Ritalin, courtesy of my douchebag brother-in-law.”

Ashlyn’s eyes were fixed on the little white pills. “How did…”

Alex shrugged with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. They haven’t been anywhere you haven’t already put your mouth.”

“Lex…”

“Do you want them?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” She stretched out her hand, but Alex held them out of reach, smiling her picture perfect smile. Ashlyn sighed. “What do you want?”

“Don’t say it like that. Nothing bad.”

“Alex…”

“You.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Me?”

“You. I just… I need to feel good. I need you to make me feel good. Make me feel whole.”

“You’re- put your shirt back on!”

Alex put her hands on her hips, doing absolutely nothing to cover up her pink lace bra. “What? You don’t think I’m hot anymore?”

“I think you’re very hot, but I’m dating Ali.”

“Ali. Poor, sweet, fucked up Ali.”

Ashlyn jumped to her feet. “Don’t-”

Alex pushed Ashlyn’s finger away from her face, wrapping her fingers around her wrist. “Don’t what? Don’t state the obvious? She won’t even let you touch her.”

“Stop.”

“It’s not her fault. Or yours. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t have needs.” She pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together. “Be honest. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Alex…” Ashlyn sighed.

She let go, holding up her hands. “Listen I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that… that I don’t want to, it’s…”

“Ali. I know.” She sat back on her heels, swallowing back tears. “Ashlyn… I need this. I need to be close to someone. I need to feel like I’m not worthless. I need to feel… loved. Okay?”

“Lex, I’m not sure-”

“Please,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “You can close your eyes, you can pretend that I’m Ali, I just need this.”

Ashlyn wiped away the tear, threading her fingers through Alex’s thick, dark hair. “You’re not worthless. I promise.”

Alex pressed the pills into her hand then unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the ground. “Then show me.”

Ashlyn took a deep breath and swallowed the pills, then climbed onto the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we feeling???


	11. Run for your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter. My dad's mom passed away so I had a pretty hectic few days flying across the country for the funeral, and I've now decided to stay in Texas for a few weeks to help take my dad to doctor's appointments and lessen the strain on my mom and sister.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter

_'_ _This is my last time, she said_   
_As she faded away_   
_It's hard to imagine_   
_But one day you'll end up like me_   
_Then she said_

_If you want to get out alive_   
_Run for your life_   
_If you want to get out alive_   
_Run for your life'_

Get out Alive, Three Days Grace

**Patient: Alexandra Blaire Krieger**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: PTSD; Trauma (Sexual Assault)**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Lorazepam ( ~~as needed~~ emergencies only); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

They were halfway through breakfast when Carli finally sat down.

“Where have you been?” Pinoe demanded, nosy as ever.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alex got pulled out of her room this morning, straight to solitary. They ended up questioning Lindsey for like thirty minutes, and then I was next since I’m their suite mate.”

“Shit, what did she do?” Tobin asked.

“Same old Alex. Apparently while she was home for her sister’s baby shower, she swiped some pills. Smuggled them back into camp with her.”

Ali furrowed her eyebrows. “Really? Alex isn’t much of a pill popper.”

Carli shook her head. “Oh they don’t think she took them.”

“What do you mean?” Pinoe asked.

“Well, of course they wouldn’t say it outright, but from their questions, they think she traded them to other girls.”

“Traded for what?”

Carli lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the one currency Alex deals in?”

Becky laughed. “Shit. I don’t even swing that way, but for the right pills I maybe would have given it a shot. I’m kinda bummed she didn’t ask.”

The girls all laughed but Ali was no longer listening. Instead she was realizing exactly how stiff Ashlyn had grown beside her, the way her head was practically buried in her plate.

_Pills. Sex. Alex Morgan._

“You didn’t.” Her voice was quiet, but she knew that Ashlyn heard her.

“Ali-”

“Tell me you didn’t, that it wasn’t you.”

She turned to reply, but the moment Ali saw her eyes, she knew.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She pushed back from the table, nearly toppling the entire bench.

“Ali please-”

“What the FUCK?”

The dining room had become eerily silent, all the girls craning around to see what was going on.

“It was an accident-”

“An accident? You accidentally had sex with her?!”

The staff was rushing forward, but Ashlyn got to her feet anyway. “I mean, it was a mistake.”

“No, you’re a mistake!” Ali hissed. “Why did I ever think you could be faithful? I should have known!”

“That’s enough, Krieger.” Richie put a hand on her shoulder and she jerked backwards.

“Leave me alone!”

Laura stepped in, hands raised aloft. “Alright, let’s all just calm down. How about you come sit over here, hm? You and me can just have a nice chat.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not going to touch you. But let’s just take a breath.”

“And Harris, you sit back down. We don’t need you riling anyone else up,” Richie threw out.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“That’s bullshit!” Ali screamed, but Laura stepped in front of her.

“Ali, deep breaths.” Behind her, she watched Ashlyn spit in Richie’s face and subsequently be wrestled to the ground. The tears finally hit, and she allowed Laura to gently shepherd her to the anorexic table. She put her head down and let herself sob. She had truly been an idiot to ever think that she could be in a relationship. She was a freak, plain and simple. She needed to face the facts that no one would want to stay with a girl who couldn’t have sex, whose body automatically recoiled from being touched. She was destined to be alone, and maybe that was for the best.

**Patient: Alexandra Linsley Long**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Bipolar Disorder; Social Media Addiction**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Lithium, Olanzapine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“So.” Jill smiled at her from her chair, her pen held loosely in her hand. “Six months. It’s a long time.”

Allie nodded. “It is.”

“Are you excited to go home?”

“Yeah.” Jill tilted her head to the side. “No, really I am.”

“What are you most excited for?”

“To see my parents, my little brother. To hang out with my friends. And to eat some good food, no offense.”

Jill laughed. “None taken.” She shifted in her chair. “Are you worried?”

Allie took a deep breath in and out. “Not really. A little.”

“What are you worried about?”

“Just… sliding backwards again, I guess. Having an intense high or low.”

“Well… you probably will.”

Allie’s heart jumped in her chest. “What?”

“Well, unfortunately that’s just the nature of the disorder. You have bipolar disorder, Allie. You’re going to experience mood swings, just like you did before. The hope is that now you’ll have medication to make them not as extreme, and that you’ll have the tools at your disposal to get through them.” She watched her for a moment. “I can tell that’s not the answer you wanted.”

“I just…” she sighed, scratching her nails lightly up and down her thighs. “I want to be normal. I want to live a normal life. I want to do normal things.”

“And you can.”

“Jill, come on-”

“I’m being serious. I have absolute faith that you are going to go home and live a largely normal life. I believe that you can graduate high school, that you can attend college or trade school if you wish. I believe that you can find a job that you love and that provides you with fulfillment. I think you can go on to have a partner, and if you choose to do so get married and have children. Bipolar doesn’t negate any of those things.”

“But… I’m still going to be experiencing the mood swings, even on stabilizers?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not normal!”

Jill sighed. “Would you consider someone who has to take insulin for diabetes normal?”

Allie rolled her eyes. “That’s different-”

“Why? Because diabetes affects the pancreas and not the brain?”

Allie wound a lock of hair around her finger, concentrating on it instead of Jill. “It’s just different.”

The psychologist leaned forward. “Allie, we wouldn’t be releasing you to go home if we didn’t think you weren’t ready. But you are, you’ve done splendid work here. Work that I’m confident that you can continue to do once you’re back in Long Island. And you won’t be alone, you know that right?” Allie nodded distractedly. “You’ll have your parents and you’ll continue to see your old therapist. And we will still be right here. You can always shoot an email to me or Dawn, or any of the other staff here.”

“I’m scared,” Allie admitted.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared that I’m going to fuck up again. Scared of hurting my family again.”

“Your parents have forgiven you for what happened with your brother. They said so, to your face.”

Guilt washed through Allie’s body. “I know, but… maybe they shouldn’t have. I mean, dragging a twelve year old to a house party? Leaving him there? He could have gotten hurt.”

“But he didn’t.”

“But he could have,” Allie repeated. “How can they forgive me for that?”

“Because they love you, Allie. They love you and they understand that you were on an extreme high when it happened. And they also know that you’ve been working on yourself in here. They have forgiven you, and I think it’s time that you start working on forgiving yourself.”

**Patient: Mallory Diane Pugh**

**Age: 14**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

She had been so excited to talk to Taylor. Talking to friends on the phone usually made her feel like she wasn’t missing out. But as her best friend had chattered on about the algebra test she had taken that day, the cute boy in her English class and how she wished she could go on a date with him, about the new trick she had mastered at the rink, Mal just felt alone.

She was missing out.

All of her friends were getting to attend high school, getting to grow and live and laugh and be free.

And here Mal was, such a fuck up that her parents had locked her away.

She wanted to be back at school but more than that she wanted to return to her sport. Yes, it caused her stress and there were some days that had left her in tears, convinced that she hated ice skating and never wanted to step back on the ice ever again. But then at the next practice she would land a triple salchow for the first time and her coach would give her a rare smile, and everything was okay.

But every day that she wasn’t on the ice she could feel her muscles slipping away, her chances of going elite slowly disappearing.

She ended her call with Taylor, her mouth tasting like metal, her fingers itching for something, anything, to take away this feeling. She knew what she wanted to do, what she would do if she was at home. She dug her fingers into the skin just above her waistband, the place that was criss crossed with scars. She knew that physical pain was a great replacement for emotional pain.

But, she reminded herself, that wasn’t an option anymore. It had been made clear to her that as long as she was still self harming, her parents weren’t going to let her come home. So she gritted her teeth and marched through the rec room, ignoring the other girls were talking and laughing, watching TV, playing cards. She marched up to the nurse’s station.

“Everything okay, Mal?” Heather asked.

“Is Lauren on tonight?”

“She is but I think she’s checking on someone. Is everything okay?”

Mal pushed her fingers hard into the counter, scratching her nails against it. “I just, I want to talk to her.”

“If you want to take a seat right there, I can page her. Is that alright?”

She nodded tightly, sitting in the chair Heather had pointed to. She clasped her hands in front of her, squeezing until it hurt.

“Mal?”

She glanced up to see Lauren smiling at her. “Hi.”

“Hey, buddy. Do you wanna go talk somewhere a little more private?”

She nodded, and allowed herself to be lead into one of the conference rooms. “What’s going on?”

“I’m mad. I’m mad and I’m sad and I just want to, to-” She glanced up at the nurse who had settled in across from her, ashamed of the tears that were building up in her eyes.

“You’re having the urge to hurt yourself?”

She gave a tiny, jerky nod.

“Okay. Have you done anything harmful?”

She shook her head.

“Okay. What can we do instead?”

“I don’t know.” Tears began to run down her cheeks and Mal quickly wiped them away.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can cry.”

But as Mal squeezed her eyes shut all she could hear was her coach, screaming instructions, banging on the side of the rink to punctuate his points, sneering when she would get so tired and overwhelmed that she would begin to cry. _“What? What is this? Are you a winner? Or are you a cry baby? Winners don’t cry. Winners only win. Losers cry. Are a loser, Mallory?”_ His rough, Russian accent echoed perfectly in her mind.

“I don’t want to cry.”

“Okay. Okay, here.” Lauren grabbed a notebook from a nearby shelf and opened it to a clean page. She took the pen from the pocket of her scrubs and drew a tic tac toe board. “Do you want to be X or O?”

Mal sniffed. “Really? Tic tac toe?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Mal mumbled something about ‘babies’ under her breath.

“Well, if this is too easy for you then let’s make it interesting.” She added more lines so that it was five across instead of three. “Okay, so the goal is to get four in a row. Do you want to be X or O?”

“X.”

They sat about playing the game, not speaking much until Mal finally sighed. “I think Taylor is about to get a boyfriend.”

“Ah, someone you know?” She shook her head. “Are you happy for her? Sad? Jealous?”

Mal gave yet another shrug. “Jealous I guess. Mad that her life is going on without me. Wondering if I’ll ever have a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t have my first boyfriend until I was seventeen.”

Mal looked up at her. “Really?” Lauren nodded and Mal grimaced. “That’s so old.”

Lauren laughed. “Not really!”

“Was… it nice?”

Lauren hummed for a second. “I guess. He ended up being just a dumb boy and we broke up a few months later.”

“When did you meet your husband?”

“In college. And we got married after I graduated.”

“And then had little Jrue?”

Lauren smiled. “Yup. She showed up a little over a year later. Our little ladybug.” She reached out and laid her hand on top of Mal’s. “I know this feels like the end of the world. I know the anxiety in your chest says that it’s never going to get any better, but it will.”

“Do you promise?” Mal whispered before she could stop herself.

Lauren squeezed her hand, looking into the face that reminded her of her own little girl, safe and sound at home. “I promise, Mal. But you have to be here to see it.”

**Patient: Rebecca Elizabeth Saurbrunn**

**Age: 18**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Adderall); Trauma (Divorce, Loss of a Loved One)**

**Treatment: Supervised Tapering; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Grief Counseling**

Becky paused for just a moment in the bathroom, steeling herself. She took a deep breath then walked into the other room.

It was deadly quiet, neither Ali nor Emily saying anything. Becky mad a quick decision and went to Emily first. “Hey. Go get in the shower.”

Emily didn’t look up from the book held loosely in her hands. “I don’t need to.”

Becky gave her a look. “No offense, but I have a nose and that’s not true. C’mon.” She held out a hand expectantly. Emily stared at her for a moment before letting herself be pulled from the bed and steered towards the bathroom. Once the door shut behind her, Becky turned to the other bed.

“Al?”

Ali didn’t respond, instead staying exactly where she was, curled up on her bed, facing the wall. Becky took a step closer. “Ali.”

“What?”

She sat on the edge of the twin bed. “I’m sorry that this happened.”

Her only answer was a loud sniff.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you go back in time?”

“No, I can’t.” She sat for a second, considering her words carefully. “Ashlyn… she really likes you, y’know.”

“Well she picked a hell of a way to show it.” Ali’s voice was dull and lifeless.

“It’s… I’m not saying what she did was right, by any means. Because it wasn’t, it was shitty. But also, I get it.”

“What, it’s crazy to think that anyone wouldn’t cheat when their girlfriend was a fucked up mess?”

“No. I just understand what it’s like to be an addict. To have your entire life centered around pills.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse,” Ali replied, her voice rough with tears.

“It’s not an excuse, but I know. I’m just saying. I’ve done some horrible things to get my hands on pills. Illegal things. Things that could have sent me to jail for a long time.” She was silent for several moments, the room quiet apart from the barely audible patter of the shower in the next room. “She made an awful, terrible decision. And I know it doesn’t help lessen the pain you feel, but I’m sure she regrets it. I’m sure if she could go back in time and do it over, she would.”

“I’m so fucking mad at her.”

“I know. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be mad.”

“I don’t know that I can forgive her.”

“And you don’t have to.” The bathroom door opened and Emily came out, her wet hair streaming down her back. “Feel better?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

Becky stood up and looked down at Ali. “Even if you don’t want to shower tonight, you should get up and wash your face and brush your teeth. It’ll make you feel better.” She crossed back into her room, not looking at Rose as she began to get ready for bed, her mind filled with memories of another woman, one who shared her blue eyes and blonde hair, who had been so overcome with heartbreak that she could barely got out of bed.

She crawled beneath her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut. Even though she had failed her mom, maybe this time she could make everything alright.


	12. Worthless, hopeless, sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay. Here's chapter 12!

_'Hear it! I'm screaming it_  
_You tremble at this sound_  
  
_You sink into my clothes_  
_And this invasion_  
_Makes me feel_  
_Worthless, hopeless, sick_  
  
_I'm so sick_  
_Infected with where I live_  
_Let me live without this_  
_Empty bliss_  
_Selfishness_  
_I'm so_  
_I'm so sick'_

I'm So Sick, Flyleaf

**Patient: Christen Annemarie Press**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder**

**Treatment: Clomipramine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Aversion Therapy**

Tobin edged out of the bathroom, into Ash and JJ’s room. Her friend was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey, dude,” she tried. Ashlyn didn’t answer. By all accounts she hadn’t spoken to anyone since she had come out of solitary. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t, Tobin.”

“I know you must be-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay! Okay.” Tobin turned and crossed back through the bathroom, Christen stopping her in the doorway to their room.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“If she doesn’t want to talk, then she doesn’t want to talk!”

“Tobs, she needs you,” Christen urged.

“She said she wants to be alone.” Tobin shuffled past her. Christen sighed, then took a deep breath. She crossed into the adjoining room.

“Hey, Ash.”

“Oh my god, I said I don’t want to talk about it!” She rolled over on her side, facing the wall with a scowl. Christen gently sat next to her on the bed.

“I’m sorry that this happened.”

“It’s my own fault,” she grumbled back.

“I mean… you made a mistake. People make mistakes.”

Ashlyn let out a huffy sigh. “Chris… just let me lay here, okay? Not everyone is lucky enough to have some perfect relationship like you and Tobin.”

Christen furrowed her eyebrows. “We’re not perfect, Ash.”

“Well you’re pretty damn close to it, okay? Even before you started dating you were practically married. Me and Ali… I mean I really hurt her.”

“Yeah, you did.” Christen pressed her lips together. “It must be… hard, to date Ali.”

“It wasn’t because of that-”

“I know,” Christen assured her. “I’m just saying that it must be hard. I mean… what I’m trying to say is that I get it. My OCD probably causes just as many intimacy issues as Ali’s PTSD. And Toby…”

“She has depression, I know.”

“But it’s more than that, Ash. She… she hates herself. She has so much internalized homophobia that I think it’s amazing that she’s made it this far, that she’s able to be as open as she is. But it’s hard. I think love in general is hard. But when you add in everything else we have going on…” she sighed. “It’s even harder.”

Ashlyn rolled over onto her back. “Do you think she’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you be able to forgive Tobin?”

She paused for a moment, thinking about it. “I’m… I’m not sure. I want to say no, but… but Tobin seems to be the one thing that seems to override all of my rules, all of my logic. So maybe I would. I really don’t know.”

“I miss her.”

“Why… why did you do it? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

She sighed, scrubbing at her face with her hands. “I… I don’t know. I had been craving pills for… well, I’m always craving pills. But it had been stronger and… then Alex was here, offering. And not only that, she was feeling really low. She’d had a bad home visit, I guess, but I could see in her eyes how much she was hurting. And I wanted to make her feel better.”

“Yeah…”

Ashlyn shook her head with a mirthless laugh. “Of course, in the process of helping Alex, I hurt Ali.”

“And yourself.”

“You sound like Jill.”

Christen tentatively reached out and patted Ashlyn’s arm. “I’m really sorry you’re hurting, Ash. If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Ash gave her a small, barely there smile. “Thanks, Chris.”

**Patient: Alyssa Michele Naeher**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Lys! Alyssa come look at this!” She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Becky beckoning her over. She sat next to her on the couch.

“What’s up?”

“My aunt sent me a graphic novel version of Jane Eyre.”

Alyssa focused her attention on the book being thrust into her hands. “Oh wow. That’s really cool.”

“Jane Eyre is one of my favorites.”

Alyssa couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. “Really?”

“What?”

She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s just… Rochester is such a dick.”

“Well… yeah. But I really identify with Jane I guess. Someone who’s smart but overlooked because she’s not beautiful-”

“But you’re not.” Alyssa swallowed hard as Becky’s eyes flashed over to her. “I mean, you are. Beautiful, that is.”

Becky gave her a small grin and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“I know.”

“I just mean that… well, some girls are beautiful. And some girls are plain. And… I mean, it’s okay. I’m other things, I’m smart as hell,” she joked.

Alyssa pressed her lips together. She wished that Becky could see what she saw. She wished that she could tell her the way her stomach flipped when she walked in the room. But that would require an extraordinary amount of bravery, and that had never been Alyssa’s strong suit.

“Hey.” A hand on her arms pulled her out of her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Her cheeks flushed red as she realized that she had just been staring at her friend, not replying. “Yeah, I’m- I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Becky’s eyes darted across her face, searching for something. “You wanna watch a movie? I think they have Jurassic Park today.”

“Sure.” She took Becky’s hand and let herself be pulled up. As she let herself be lead across the room to the TV, she took a steadying breath.

This crush was getting out of hand. She either needed to get over it or screw up whatever little courage she had and confess her feelings.

But would it be worth it?

**Patient: Alexandra Patricia Morgan**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder (see file notes)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“How are we feeling today, Alex?”

Alex kept her eyes on the wall above Jill’s head. “Oh I’m just peachy.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be? What’s not to love about being imprisoned against your will?”

“Alex-”

“ _Especially_ solitary confinement. So cool. My fave.”

“Alex. You provided narcotics to another patient. Did you think you wouldn’t be punished?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking about punishment. I was thinking about trying to feel better.”

“Did you? Feel better, that is?”

She stopped short, considering the question. “A little. She always does a good job of taking care of me. Not to mention multiple orgasms,” she threw out, trying to fluster the older woman.

No luck. “Who does?”

“Nope. Not telling. I’m not a narc.”

“Is it someone who is here working on addiction? If so, it would be nice to know so we can monitor them for symptoms. We want everyone to be healthy.”

Alex smiled. “Jill. We both know that sociopaths don’t feel empathy, so don’t waste your time.”

Jill tilted her head. “Do you think you’re a sociopath?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. That’s what my second therapist labeled me as. That’s what it says in my file.”

“Why do you think he came to that conclusion?”

She shrugged. “Because I fit the criteria. He said I was a textbook case: repeatedly breaking the law, impulsive behavior, being aggressive, being a slut, lying for attention-”

“Lying?” Alex nodded. “Why lying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the last few months, and I’ve always found you to be remarkably truthful. Why would he have described you as deceitful?”

Alex swallowed. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Jill marked something down in her notebook. “Okay. Can I ask you a question about something else?”

“Sure.”

“What can you tell me about the events that led you to come to us.”

“Oh. Not much to say. Danny had broken up with me. He was mad because he said I gave him chlamydia, but honestly I don’t know who gave what to who. But anyway, he dumped me at school, in front of all of these people. And I was… I was so embarrassed. It felt like everyone was talking about me, laughing at me. But that night my dad found out from my doctor that I had an STI and he was yelling and yelling… He kept saying what a disappointment I was, how my sisters had never done anything like this. And after he and my mom went to bed I was suddenly so angry. I was mad that no one was stopping to ask how I felt. So… I grabbed the keys to the Mercedes. I was driving, having a blast, then all of a sudden there was a cop. And I panicked so I floored it and… next think I knew I had driven through the windows of the Ralph Lauren on Rodeo Drive. I was arrested and the judge said I had to come here.”

“How did you feel after the car accident?”

“Just… empty.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex played with the ring on her right hand. “Just… I couldn’t believe that I had fucked up so badly. Again. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it.”

“It?”

“The last straw. The thing that would finally make my dad throw me out of the house.”

Jill furrowed her eyebrows. “That must have been scary.”

She shrugged. “Could you blame him?”

Jill carefully shut her book. “Well Alex I have something very important to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think you’re a sociopath.”

Hesitation flickered across her face. “What?”

“For one, you’re only seventeen, and it’s not possible to formally diagnose someone with antisocial personality disorder until they are at least eighteen.”

“What can I say, I’m advanced for my age,” Alex cracked.

Jill didn’t smile. “No. You’ve just been forced to grow up fast due to trauma.”

Alex’s smile dropped. “I…”

“And also, feeling embarrassed? Yearning for your father’s love? Not possible for sociopaths.”

“I don’t need him,” she insisted, her temper rising quickly.

“You don’t need him, no. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t still want him.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Unfortunately that’s all the time we have for today, but next time we meet, I would really like to hear more about this other therapist, and what he classified as ‘lies.’ Okay?”

She gave a tiny nod. “I’ll think about it.”

**Patient: Abigail Lynn Dahlkemper**

**Age: 15**

**Diagnosis: Panic Disorder (Aquaphobia)**

**Treatment: Alprazolam; Exposure Therapy; Group Therapy**

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, her eyes never leaving the large bowl of water on the table.

“Abby? Are you listening to me?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, still not looking at Dawn. “Yes.”

“What did I just say?”

“Um…” Okay maybe she hadn’t been listening, she had been way too concerned with the first tendrils of icy terror beginning to slither through her body. “Can you repeat it?”

“Yes. I said that we’re doing another session of exposure therapy today.” She gave another jerky nod. She had figured as much. “How do you feel about that?”

“I mean, I don’t want to. But I know I have to.”

“I’m going to be right beside you the whole time, okay? We’ll both be sitting right here, your feet won’t leave the floor. You’ll be completely safe.”

“I know that,” she sighed. Because really, she did. In the logical part of her brain she knew that water wasn’t dangerous, especially not in such a small quantity. But she also knew how easy it was for the logical part of her brain to turn off, leaving her with nothing but panic.

“Are you ready to begin?”

She pushed up the sleeves of her long sleeve shirt and nodded apprehensively. “Ready as I can be.”

“Okay. Let’s start with just the fingertips of your left hand, yes?” She dipped them into the water and stifled a gasp. “Talk to me, Abs.”

“It’s cold.”

“It is a bit chilly today, I’m sorry. What does that remind you of?”

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “It reminds me of the pool. The pool was cold, so cold.”

“I bet,” Dawn said sympathetically. “It was in February, right?” She nodded. “Let’s go a bit further, to the third knuckle.” It felt as if electric currents were shooting up her hands as she dipped them further into the water. “You’re doing wonderful, Abby.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know, darling. I know. Do you want to keep going with this hand or start dipping your next hand? It’s your choice.”

“Keep… doing this hand,” she ground out. Her right hand was clutching her chair, gripping until her knuckles turned white.

“Okay. Let’s take a few deep breaths first. In for four… hold for four… out for four…” Dawn repeated the breathing exercise several times and then asked her to submerge her hand up to the wrist. That was followed by her right hand, working in slow increments until both hands were being held in the water. “Look at you! You’re doing so great!”

But she didn’t feel like she was doing so great. Her breathing was starting to come faster and faster, even as her chest seemed to lock up. “I don’t- I can’t-” she choked.

“Abby, Abs stay with me okay. You’re safe. You’re here at the clinic. Your feet are on the ground. I’m right beside you.”

She could hear what Dawn was saying, but as her eyes squeezed shut all she could focus on was the water. The water on her fingers, on her palms, on her wrists. All at once it seemed to be closing in around her, ice cold, the chlorine making her gasp for air as she heard her classmates laugh at her.

“Abby? Abby, listen to me please.”

Nothing but loud, obnoxious laughter as she pleaded for her clothes back.

“Abby. Open your eyes.” She forced them open, looking around the room, taking in the wooden floors, the drab tan paint on the walls, the gleam of the fluorescent light above. “You’re safe. You’re completely safe here, I promise.”

“Can I take them out? Please?” she begged.

“Okay, slowly though. Easy does it.” Once her hands were out of the water she grabbed the towel from Dawn’s hands and hurriedly dried herself off, chest still heaving as she tried to suck in enough air, her heart racing as if she had just run for miles.

“There we go. That’s some excellent work today, Abs. Some really good work. You were able to keep them in for nearly five minutes from start to finish! I really think that if you keep working hard like this you’ll be able to handle quick showers within a few months. Won’t that be nice?”

She nodded. She remembered, back before the incident, loving nothing more than a hot shower on a cold day, or a cool shower to rinse off after track practice. She missed it, missed the comfort that it brought her. She wished more than anything she could go back in time and reject the invite to go out with some of the more popular girls. She would have stayed at home, a loser, alone, without any friends, but at least she would retain her sense of safety. At least she would be able to wash her hair without having a full fledged panic attack.

Dawn wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “You’ll get there, Abby my love. Slowly but surely, you’ll get there, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What girls are you guys resonating with?


	13. I'll pick you up off of the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Trauma Tuesday
> 
> Keep your chins up, we're all going to get through this together

_'I hate to see you fall down_   
_I'll pick you up off of the ground_   
_I've watched the weight of your world come down_   
_And now it's your chance to move on_   
_Change the way you've lived for so long_   
_You find the strength you've had inside all along._

_'Cause life starts now._   
_You've done all the things that could kill you somehow_   
_And you're so far down_   
_But you will survive it somehow because life starts now'_

Life Starts Now, Three Days Grace

**Patient: Morgan Paige Brian**

**Age: 15**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Anxiety**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Diazepam; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Morgan sat down next to Emily and pulled her notebook closer, quickly doodling something in the margins.

“Don’t,” Emily mumbled under her breath.

Moe ignored her, humming as she finished her work, leaning in to inspect it, then slid it back to her friend with a smile. Emily didn’t say anything at first, instead just staring at the question ‘What’s a windmills favorite genre of music?’ Underneath, Moe had written ‘They’re big metal fans!’

She finally gave a slight, huffy laugh. “You’re a dork.”

She gave a satisfied grin, delighted at seeing a glimpse of her friend’s normally sunny face. “Maybe. But you chose to be friends with me.”

Emily scrubbed her hands across her face and yawned. “God I’m tired.”

“Yeah. Me too. Did you not sleep well?” Emily shook her head. “Did you have more nightmares?” she asked more quietly.

Emily sighed and gave a terse nod. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe you should-”

“Tell someone?” Emily’s pale lips twisted into an ugly, sarcastic smile. “Because that went so well last time.”

Moe drummed her fingers on the table top. “Right. Well… maybe Dawn could give you something to help you sleep.”

“I don’t have problems falling asleep. If anything, I try everything I can to stop myself from falling asleep.”

“Yeah…” Moe paused, not wanting Emily to snap at her. “Have you… talked to Emma?”

Emily sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “Just the once. She said that she told the cops that she didn’t know what I was talking about. She said that my dad gave the cops the good ole boy routine, and that by the time they left, they were laughing and slapping each other on the back, talking about who the Atlanta Falcons would be drafting. So…” She gave a pale imitation of a smile. “That’s that, I guess. My mom won’t talk to me on the phone. Thankfully, neither will he.”

“I’m really sorry,” Moe breathed. She reached out for her friend’s hand, but Emily squirmed away.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

Emily turned to look at her, but got distracted looking somewhere over Moe’s shoulder. When she turned to look, she caught a glimpse of Kelley sitting at her desk across the room, staring at Emily with furrowed eyebrows. She quickly dropped her head, avoiding both of their eyes.

“It’s okay,” Emily repeated, her voice and eyes far away, “Or at least, it will be someday.”

**Patient: Alexandra Linsley Long**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Bipolar Disorder**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Lithium, Olanzapine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Alright girls, settle down, settle down. Now I know you’re all hopped up on cake and sugar now, but I do want to say something.” Dawn smiled and waited for them all to stop talking.

“Now today is one of my favorite days here at the clinic. It’s a goodbye day. And I know, I know that for most of us, saying goodbye is something we hate, something we fear. But this is one of those rare instances where goodbye is really code for congratulations. Because one of our own, Allie Long, is getting to go home today, and that is absolutely a reason to celebrate.”

Allie could feel her face flush pink as Dawn gave her a warm smile and her mom pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Allie, I can remember when you got here. You were hurting, that much was obvious. You were struggling with your bipolar disorder, and you were scared of getting too close to anyone, lest someone get hurt. But here we are, six months later, and look at all of the progress you’ve made! Look at all of the people who care about you.” She took a deep breath. “I think I can safely speak for all of the staff here when I say that we are so, so proud of you. We have faith in you, and we are so excited to see what you do. So, to Allie!” She raised her paper cup and everyone did the same.

“To Allie!”

“Al, it’s almost time for us to leave, we don’t want to miss our flight. Go ahead and start saying your last good byes,” her mom told her.

“I’ll go ahead and load your bags into the van,” her dad added.

Allie did as she was told, hugging all of her friends but saving Tobin for last. When she finally made her way over, her friend kept her head down, scuffing the toe of her sneaker into the ground.

“I’m not disappearing forever.”

“I know.”

“You can call me anytime, or write me an email. And I can make cookies and send them to you in a care package!”

“You’re going to miss me so much, you’re gonna try and kill me?”

“Hey!” Allie exclaimed in a mock outraged voice. “I’ve never given anyone food poisoning yet!” But then Tobin sniffled and raised her head, revealing a pink nose and slightly damp cheeks. “Aw, babe.”

“I’m just going to miss you a lot,” she sheepishly explained.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” Allie threw her arms around Tobin, and they hugged for several long minutes.

“Als? It’s time to go,” her mom whispered.

“Okay. Bye Harry. Take care, okay?”

“You too. Bye Harry.”

Allie pulled away and was given a last hug by Dawn. “Goodbye sweet girl. Remember, keep to the meds, on time, every day, and keep up with your therapy appointments. You can do this.”

“Thanks, Dawn.” She shouldered her backpack and gave one last wave to the room before following her parents out to the van.

“Why do you girls call each other Harry?” her mom asked.

She could only shake her head as she opened the sliding door to climb inside. “I can’t explain it. She’s just my Harry.”

“I’m so glad that you made friends while you were here.”

The driver started the ignition and Allie couldn’t help but twist around in her seat to stare at where the clinic was receding in the window. “Me too.”

**Patient: Kelley Maureen O’Hara**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: ADHD; Anger management issues (suspected Intermittent Explosive Disorder)**

**Treatment: Adderall; Valproic Acid; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Anger Management**

Alex pressed her nose into Kelley’s neck, waiting as the shorter girl began to catch her breath. “You’ve gotten a lot better at that,” Kelley half groaned.

Alex chuckled, sticking out her tongue to lick at the salty skin of her neck. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Apparently.” She stretched her legs then turned on her side, pulling Alex closer.

“Hey can I… talk to you about something?” Alex’s voice was characteristically nervous. Kelley nodded and the other girl took a deep breath. “So… when I was a sophomore, I started seeing this guy.”

Kelley nodded. “Alright.”

“He was… sweet. So nice to me. He really made me feel special, y’know?” She pushed her hair from her eyes. “I was talking to him one day after school and he kissed me. And it was like something in a movie, magical. We ended up hanging out a lot over Christmas break, almost every day We even started having sex. And it’s not that I was like, a virgin or anything. But it felt different. Like he really cared about me.”

“Okay…”

“The problem was… he was my geometry teacher.”

Kelley sat up, looking at her fully. “Wait, what?”

Alex crossed her arms. “He was young! He had only been out of college for like a year!”

She laid back down, shaking her head. “Still… You were what, fifteen?”

“He was just… I loved him. I thought he was the one for me.”

“What changed?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. By the middle of the spring semester he started pulling away, and then right before summer he broke up with me.”

“Did you… tell anyone?”

“Not really. My sisters were already in college, my parents were never home. I got caught shoplifting that summer, and so I got sent to a different shrink. He was such a loser, he was constantly making little remarks. But when I told him about Aaron… he said I was making it up. He said I just wanted to get out of being in trouble, and so I was telling lies. And he told my parents as much, and so I never bothered to tell them.”

Kelley drummed her finger’s on Alex’s spine. “That’s so shitty.”

“Yeah. But now Jill wants to hear about that.”

“About you banging a teacher? I knew she was a freak.”

Alex laughed, her breath hot against Kelley’s cheek. “No you dork. About my therapist telling everyone I was lying. Or why he said that, I guess.” She cuddled closer, pressing her lips to Kelley’s shoulder. “I guess I just wanted to tell the story to someone else before her. Someone I trust.”

“You can always tell me anything,” Kelley assured her. “But… I mean Jill might get the police involved. As we’ve seen.” Her cheeks burned as she thought about Emily, eyes wild, cheeks tearstained, calling Kelley a bitch but much worse, a traitor.

She trailed her finger along the soft skin between Kelley’s breasts. “You shouldn’t feel bad about that. You didn’t realize her dad was hitting her. But even if you did, that’s fucked, and she needed to tell someone.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess part of me doesn’t care if she tells the police. Because at the time I felt so mature, like I could handle anything. But… Mal is almost fifteen, y’know?”

Kelley nodded. “And she’s a baby.”

“So… maybe it’s better if people know. Because he shouldn’t be having sex with girls like Mal.”

“No. Or like you.”

“No. But then again, I’m way too busy fucking you.” She let her fingers dip back between Kelley’s legs, earning a gasp, and they both silently agreed to let the matter go.

**Patient: Megan Anna Rapinoe**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Alcohol, Cocaine)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Megan Rapinoe slunk down the hallway, keeping an eye on where Lauren and Heather were chatting at their desk. She stepped carefully, silently, with the ease that came with being the youngest of six kids. She arrived at the desired door and slowly turned the doorknob, easing it open and slipping inside. She snuck the door closed again and turned around with a triumphant smile.

Ali Krieger looked on from her bed with an unimpressed look. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Is that any way to greet your friend who just army crawled past the night nurses to have some girl talk?”

Ali rolled her eyes but gave Pinoe a shrug, scooting up in bed and gesturing to the blanket in front of her. Pinoe bounced forward and crawled into the offered spot. “Where’s the roommate?”

“Em’s in the shower.”

“She still giving everyone the silent treatment?”

Ali crossed her arms. “P, Jill called the cops. She has the right to be upset.”

She held up her hands. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “She was supposed to go back to Georgia for a home visit in a few weeks. From the little she’s said, half of her is afraid Jill thinks she was lying and is going to let her go, and the other half is afraid that she won’t.”

“What? Why would she want to go home to that piece of shit?”

“He’s still her dad, Pinoe. Besides, if she doesn’t go she won’t get to see Emma. How would you feel if you didn’t get to see Rachael?”

This made Megan pause. It didn’t matter how upset she was with her family for sending her here; her twin was her best friend, her other half. There was no telling what lengths she would go to in order to see her. “Hm.”

“Yeah. Hm,” Ali echoed sarcastically.

“Well anyway, I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Pinoe took a deep breath, wanting to choose her words carefully. “She made a mistake, Ali-”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to write this off as some stupid mistake.”

“It is stupid-”

“A mistake is writing the wrong answer on your math test or spilling your drink. Fucking the local sex addict in exchange for drugs is not a mistake.”

“Ali…”

“What? What do you expect me to say?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like. To be an addict.”

“Oh and you do? What happened to ‘I could stop any time?’”

Pinoe’s face faltered. “Well I… lately I’ve been starting to think maybe I was wrong.”

Ali rolled her eyes again. “You don’t say.”

“I’m just trying to say-”

“That I should forgive Ashlyn for cheating on me, I got it.”

“Not… not necessarily.” She swallowed thickly. “Look, she fucked up, Al. I know that. She knows that. No one is saying that you don’t have the right to be mad. I just… I hate seeing you this upset. Both of you. She’s my best friend, but I care about both of you, and want you both to be happy.”

The door to the hallway opened and Lauren poked her head in, scowling slightly when she spotted Pinoe.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. It’s time for lights out.”

“Alright, don’t get your scrubs in a twist.” Pinoe stood up from the bed and stretched before walking over to where Lauren was watching her with her arms crossed. “I mean it though, Kriegs. I love you, and I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Pinoe.” Lauren pulled the door closed and began to walk her back to the room she shared with Jess.

“Why were you out of your room?”

“Just wanting to check in on a friend.”

“While that’s admirable, I really think you all would do well to remember why you’re here, and that’s work on yourselves.”

“I know, I know-”

“You owe it to yourself-”

“I’m already the shit, Lauren.” She shot her double finger guns and Lauren gave a heavy sigh before wrapping her arm around the teen’s shoulders.

“Oh Megan. What are we going to do with you?”


	14. It didn't seem wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's chapter 14!
> 
> Also, at the risk of talking about it way too early, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm writing a collection of oneshots for Halloween! Some will be fluffy, some will be scary, a few will be sexy. So look out for the first on October 1st!

_'I tried to belong_   
_It didn't seem wrong_   
_My head aches_   
_Its been so long_   
_I'll write this song_   
_If that's what it takes_

_You don't know me_   
_Don't ignore me_   
_You don't want me there_   
_You just shut me out_   
_You don't know me_   
_Don't ignore me_   
_If you had your way_   
_You'd just shut me up_   
_Make me go away'_

Unwanted, Avril Lavigne

**Patient: Julie Beth Johnston**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Anorexia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

She was practically shaking as she walked towards the dining hall. It was bad. It was all bad. Everything was spinning out of her control.

She got to their table and took her seat across from Lindsey. She stared down at the tray that had already been assembled for her, the plate of scrambled eggs and toast, the bowl of fruit, the glass of orange juice.

They were trying to ruin her.

They were ruining her.

“Good morning, Jules! How did you sleep?”

She ignored Laura, keeping her eyes on the plate.

She couldn’t let this go on.

“Lindsey, I brought the sports section of the newspaper, I thought you would want to see the latest results of the NCAA championship. It looks like Penn State might give UNC a run for their money this year.” Laura passed the paper over to Lindsey and gave Julie another smile. “Bottoms up, Jules.”

“No.”

Laura pressed her lips together. “Julie…”

“I’m not eating it.”

“We’ve been over this before, love. You have to eat and fuel your body, it’s the only way to get-”

“Take your meals, and go fuck yourself.” This caught everyone’s attention, even making Lindsey put the newspaper down. As a rule, Julie didn’t curse. Laura gave her a stern look.

“Julie. That’s enough. I don’t want to have to write you up-”

“I don’t care!” Julie came to her feet, her hands clenched into fists. “I don’t fucking care if you write me up! I care that you’re force feeding me, that you’re fattening me up against my will! I care that my clothes don’t fit!”

Laura took a deep breath. “JJ, if that’s what this is about, we can contact your mum, have her send you clothes in the next size up.”

Julie narrowed her eyes. “The next size up?”

“Your worth is not dictated by the size on a tag-”

“Shut up! Just shut up, and leave me alone! I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be sent here!”

Laura was now on her feet. “Your parents sent you here because you’re sick. You’re sick and they’re very worried about you.”

“No, you’re sick! I was… I was fine. I was almost at my goal weight. I was almost there.”

She took several steps forward until she was right in front of Julie. “You were not fine. You’d stopped getting your period. You were anemic. Your pulse and blood pressure were dangerously low. You fainted several times.”

“I. Was. Fine,” Julie insisted.

“Jules, listen to me. I need you to take some deep breaths-”

“No! I’m not listening to you anymore. You don’t care about me, you want me to be fat-”

“I want you to be healthy-”

“Stop lying to me!” Julie yelled. “All you’re doing is ruining all of my hard work.”

“JJ, why don’t you come with me,” Dawn said, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we take a stroll and talk about some of the things you’re feeling?”

Julie jerked away from her touch, but walked to the doorway anyway. She didn’t want to talk, not to anyone. They didn’t understand. They never would.

**Patient: Tobin Powell Heath**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Mail call!” Rory bellowed, walking along the tables and handing out packages and letters. Tobin sat up straighter; her mother had hinted that she would be getting something soon. “Lloyd, letter. A letter for Franch. Pugh, here’s your package. A letter for McDonald. And… Heath. A nice big box for you.”

She eagerly took it from him. She used her fork to break the tape’s seal, tearing the box open. The first thing she found was a bag of double chocolate chip cookies from her mom, her absolute favorite. Underneath was a drawing by her oldest sister’s son. He was just two years old, so it was really just a mess of multicolored scribbles, but underneath, Perry had written out ‘We love Auntie Toto so much!’ She carefully folded it and sat it aside to hang up in her room later. She found a tee shirt and a new sketchpad, along with a few notes from her other family members. She placed them all in her binder, to be read later, and then looked in the box to see if there was anything else.

At the very bottom, she found two books. She took one look at the first’s cover and her heart sank.

_‘Born that way? A True Story of Overcoming Same-Sex Attraction: A True Story of Overcoming Same-Sex Attraction with Insights for Friends, Families, and Leaders’_

She didn’t even bother looking at the second one. She swallowed thickly as she flipped open the cover to find her dad’s careful, perfect handwriting.

‘Tobin- I hope these books bring you strength and peace, and help you turn your back on temptation and return to His righteous ways. I love you. -Dad’

“Tobin?” Christen’s voice sounded curiously like she was underwater. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t reply. She could only stare at his note as her eyes filled with tears.

“What else did you get?” Pinoe, ever the nosy one, pulled the box over to her and looked inside. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“What did she get?”

Everyone at their table was intrigued, wanting to know what she could have received to make her so upset.

Christen had seen the books that Pinoe had pulled out by then, and she grabbed Tobin’s hand. “Oh Tobs. I’m so sorry.”

“It, it’s fine,” Tobin choked out.

“It’s not,” Christen whispered back. “He shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“…shouldn’t treat you this way.”

Tobin pulled her hand back, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What’s going on over here?” Amy asked. Pinoe handed over the books.

“These were in Tobin’s package from home.”

Her shoulders sagged as she looked them over, then raised her head to look at Tobin. “Why don’t we take your box back to your room, hm?”

She got to her feet, unable to look at anyone, ashamed of the tears running down her cheeks. She picked up the box and hugged it to her chest, following Amy out.

Once in her room, she sat on the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands.

“Talk to me, Tobs.”

She tried to swallow down her sobs. “Why am I like this?”

The nurse sighed. “You were born this way, Tobin. It’s not a matter of choice, no matter _what_ he tries to say.”

“I just want to make him proud. I want him to love me.”

“As he should. He’s your dad. You’re his daughter.”

“He already has two of those,” Tobin grumbled. “Two perfect daughters who wear makeup and curl their hair and wear dresses. Perry’s married and has a kid, and Katie has a boyfriend, and I’m just…” She wiped at her face. “I’m a disappointment!”

“You’re not.” Amy crouched in front of her. “You’re a good person, Tobin. You’re kind and funny and sweet and hard working. Those are the things that matter. Not who you love.”

“I just, I feel like I’m never going to measure up. He’s never going to accept me. It’s never going to be okay.”

“It will,” Amy assured her. “It absolutely will. I can’t… I can’t guarantee that your dad will ever see the light, but things will be okay. Things are going to be better than okay someday, they’re going to be amazing. But you have to be here to see it, Tobin.”

She took in several shuddering breaths. “It hurts.”

Amy sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

**Patient: Alyssa Michele Naeher**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Depression**

**Treatment: Fluoxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

There was a knock on the door and Becky poked her head inside. “Hey, I got your note.”

Alyssa smiled, her stomach full of nerves. “That’s… good. Great.”

Becky came further in, looking around. “Wow. It looks way different in here without all of Allie’s shit everywhere.”

Alyssa glanced at the empty bed and bare walls. “Yeah, it’s super weird. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Do you think you’ll get another roommate soon?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. I mean, Hope left like two months ago and Carli is still on her own.”

“Yeah. I think if things had worked out differently and I had come a week later I probably would have been in her room, just because we’re the oldest ones here.”

“Yeah.”

Becky smiled. “So what’s up? Your note was kinda mysterious.”

“Right.” Alyssa wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, mustering up every bit of courage she had. “I um… I wanted to talk to you. Or, give you something actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alyssa pulled the collage she had made and handed it over, swallowing thickly. “I um… you know about Victorian flower language, right?”

“Mm, vaguely. Just what you’ve mentioned.”

“Right. Well uh… every single flower is supposed to have a separate meaning. Even different colors change the meaning, like yellow hyacinths mean jealousy but purple ones mean please forgive me. So I, I made this for you.” She scooted slightly closer, looking at the paper in Becky’s hands.

“An iris says that your friendship means so much to me. A garlic flower stands for strength, because… because well I think you’re one of the strongest people I know. Really, Becks, you are so strong. And then white zinnias mean goodness, because that’s what you are… good.” She took a deep breath; this was the point of no return. “But this right next to it, the magenta zinnia, it’s for lasting affection. Gardenias mean a secret love. And gloxinia, well that means love at first sight.”

She could feel Becky looking at her, but she couldn’t look up. She knew that if she did she would lose what little nerve she had and never tell Becky how she felt. “The moss rosebud represents a confession of love. Jonquil on the other hand, is a question. It says um… well basically it asks the recipient to love them back. And finally, blue violet means… it means that I’ll always be true.” She forced herself to raise her head and look Becky in the eye. “Always.”

Becky’s eyes flitted around Alyssa’s face, her mouth soft and slack. “Oh… Lys.” Her voice was so quiet, and that was somehow the very thing that Alyssa couldn’t handle, the thing that snapped her already frayed nerves.

“I know that I’m not, I’m not confident like some of the other girls, like Pinoe. And I’m not beautiful like Alex, I’m not small and dainty like Julie, but um, I… I like you, Becky. I like you so much.” Now that the dam was cracked, the words were rushing at her unable to be stemmed. “You’re smart and you’re funny. I love the way you’re able to just sit and be quiet, because so many people can’t, they have to fill the air, and I, I get that now because that’s exactly how I feel, and,” she sucked in a breath. “I think you’re beautiful. Like, really. With your long blonde hair, and your blue eyes, your um, your nose, your lips,” her eyes were now riveted to them, admiring their light pink color, her cheeks flushing as she watched Becky catch her bottom lip between her teeth. “And I like you. I like you so much, and now I’ve told you, so… I like you.” She raised her eyes to Becky’s. “I like you,” she repeated.

Becky took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. She reached out and took Alyssa’s hand. “I hear you. I hear what you’re saying. And… thank you. Really, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me,” she glanced back down at the paper then back up. “You… you are so sweet.”

The air rushed out of Alyssa’s lungs. “You don’t-” She could feel the walls crumbling around her. “You don’t feel, don’t… like me.”

“I’m so, so touched, Alyssa. Believe me, I am flattered that someone as wonderful as you could have feelings like that for me. But I um… I’m straight, Lys. It’s not you, I’m just not attracted to girls.” She looked at her anxiously. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“No, it’s, it’s-” She nodded frantically, as if that could hold off the tears threatening to fall. “It’s fine,” she finished, her voice cracking.

“I wish,” Becky squeezed her hands tightly, “I wish I felt that way about you. I really do, because you are, you’re great, Lys! And really, you deserve so much more than me-”

“No-”

“I’m a mess, Alyssa. I’m, I’m a drug addict, a pill popper, a liar. You can do so much better-”

“I think you’re perfect,” Alyssa whispered before she could stop herself.

“Oh Lys.” Becky squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you-”

“No, I’m glad you did. Because I need you to know that this has absolutely nothing to do with you. I promise.”

Alyssa brushed her fingers beneath her eyes. “Okay.”

“And I, I obviously still want to be your friend, if you still want to be mine.”

“No, of course!” Alyssa replied, her voice too loud.

“Okay. Could… would it be okay if I gave you a hug?”

“Actually… not right now, I think.”

“Okay! That’s fine.”

“I think I actually maybe need to be alone for a little bit.”

Becky came to her feet, the paper still clutched in her hand. “Right. I’ll just…” she gestured awkwardly back towards the door and Alyssa nodded. “Okay.”

She managed to wait until the door softly closed behind her before she began to cry in earnest, her hands covering her face. This is what she had been so afraid of; this feeling that she had risked it all and lost it all, and nothing could fix it.

**Patient: Lindsey Michelle Horan**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Anorexia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Lindsey laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Lights out had been nearly twenty minutes ago, but she wasn’t even a little bit tired. She turned over onto her side with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked from across the room.

“Hm? Nothing.”

“Then stop making so much noise.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” Alex asked.

“Dunno, I just… can’t.” Alex didn’t answer, and Lindsey began to pick at her blanket, wrapping a thread around her finger. “Hey Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Does um… does sex hurt?”

In the little bit of light through the blinds she watched Alex sit up. “Wait, you’ve seriously never had sex?”

Lindsey groaned, rolling onto her back again. “Never mind, forget it.”

“No! I’m not… I’m not judging.”

“Just forget I asked-”

“Sometimes.”

Lindsey paused. “Sex hurts sometimes?”

“Yeah. I mean, the first time can hurt pretty bad because of like… y’know. Tearing your hymen. Or if you’re really nervous or just not that into it, sometimes it does. Why?”

“I don’t know, I just… Wait, if it hurts then why do people do it? Why do people talk about it like it’s this super important, awesome thing?”

“Well, some of the time it feels really good.”

“Some of the time?” Lindsey shook her head. “Meanwhile I’m sure it’s always good for guys.”

“Pretty much.” They laid there in silence for a while. “So… if you haven’t had sex, what have you done?”

Lindsey’s face flushed, and she was glad Alex couldn’t see her. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“C’mon, you really think I’m going to judge you? Please.”

She cleared her throat slightly. “I um… making out, obviously. And I once went to the movies with this guy. And afterwards we were in his car and he like… felt up my boobs a little bit. And I kinda touched him over his jeans but then he took it out and it was just…” She shook her head. “It looked so weird,” she admitted.

“Dude, dicks look SO weird,” Alex agreed, and they both began to laugh.

“I got freaked out and made him take me home.”

“And there hasn’t been anyone else?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “No. I’m… I’m too big. The guys at school aren’t interested.”

“Lindsey, that’s bullshit. You’re super hot.”

Lindsey groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Stop.”

“What? You are, and I know like five lesbians here who would gladly fuck you.”

“Sure, Alex.”

“I’m serious. If you want to lose your virginity just say the word and I’ll line someone up.”

“How… how does that even work?”

“What? Arranging a hookup?”

“No.” Lindsey rolled her eyes. “How… I mean how would you lose your virginity to another girl when there’s no… y’know.”

“Penetration?”

“Ew.”

Alex laughed. “Um. Well… sex with girls is… I mean there’s not an actual penis involved but you can use like, a fake one. Or your fingers. Or your mouth.”

“And that counts?”

“Yeah.”

Lindsey hummed, thinking this over. “So what, you’re this lesbian sex guru now?”

Alex laughed. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.”

“Have you always liked girls?”

“Have I…” Alex trailed off. “I don’t know. I guess there has always been some guy that wanted to take me out so I never really thought about it. But once I was here, and that was my only choice… What’s that dumb joke? Girls are like spaghetti, straight until wet?” Lindsey snorted. “I don’t know that I ever would have thought to date or hook up with another girl if I hadn’t come here. But since I did and I have… I think I would. I mean, don’t tell Kelley because her head is already too big, but the way that girl uses her body?” She gave a little shiver. “It’s ridiculous.”

Lindsey just laughed.

“So what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you in the spaghetti club?”

She snorted again. “I’ve only kissed guys.”

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Are you interested in both?”

_Are you?_

“I’m going to sleep,” Lindsey replied, and rolled over to face the wall. She already had so many questions about sex rolling through her mind; the last thing she needed was for Alex to give her more.


	15. Have faith, but it keeps freezing

_'Wanna go, but I'm not leaving_   
_Have faith, but it keeps freezing_   
_Ran this line a thousand times_   
_Can't deny the truth inside_   
  
_All these nights that it kept me up_   
_All these nights that it kept me up_   
_And I'll die if I keep this up_   
_I'll die if I keep this up_   
  
_When the truth comes out_   
_When the truth comes out_   
_It's loud, it's loud'_

When the Truth Comes Out, Manafest

**Patient: Tierna Lillis Davidson**

**Age: 14**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Self Harm**

**Treatment:** **Paroxetine; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

She stared up at the ceiling, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She’d been doing fine recently, her mood being on the up and up, the paroxetine doing a good job of balancing out the production of serotonin in her brain. She’d been doing the group therapy sessions along with the individual therapy, and she had been feeling good. Happy, even.

But in the darkness of her and Mal’s room, happy was the last thing she was feeling.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mal getting ready for the day, putting on makeup and pulling her hair back in a ponytail.

“You better hurry up! You’re gonna be late for breakfast.”

She didn’t care about breakfast. She didn’t care about anything past the heavy fog that seemed to be holding her down, keeping her in bed.

“T?”

“I’m… not hungry,” she sighed out.

Mal sat down on the edge of her bed. “Are you okay? Do you not feeling well?”

“I feel…” She turned her head to look at her friend. “I’m worried.”

“Worried about what?”

She looked back at the ceiling, tracing the tiny dots in the tiles, scattered about like stars across an unknown galaxy. “What if I’m not enough?”

“What do you mean?” Mal’s voice was soft.

“I mean… I’m smart, Mal. I know that. My entire life people have told me that I’m smart. My parents… they said I started reading crazy young. My teachers… they had me skip grades, because I was running circles around the other students. And my classmates…” She shook her head slightly, “They called me Einstein when they were being nice, and freak show when I was ruining our class’s curve. I’m…freakily smart. I weird people out. But what if I never do anything great?”

“But… But you just said-”

“I know. I know what I said. But what is it all for? If I don’t go on to be some sort of astrophysicist or mathematician, then what is the point of being so smart? What’s the point if I never do anything great?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“What if I turn out to be a disappointment? People expect me to do great things, they tell me so all the time. But maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just be a person. Maybe I’ll let everyone down.”

“Maybe what really matters isn’t what you accomplish, but whether or not you’re happy.”

Tierna gave her a tiny, forced smile. “But I don’t know how to be happy.”

“Yeah. I don’t either. But… that’s why we’re here, I guess.”

“But what if it doesn’t work? I mean 80% of people who seek treatment for depression show improvement, but that means 20% of people don’t. What if I’m in that 20%? I mean I could fight and fight and fight, and never truly find a solution.” She looked tearfully at Mal. “The cutting and the biting… I don't want to die. That wasn’t it. I just spent every day feeling as if the expectations of my parents and my teachers and the admissions people at Stanford, as if they were all pressing down on me, and I needed something, anything to escape. Does that make sense?”

Mal laid down next to her, snuggling into her side and taking her hand. “Yeah. Trust me, I… I get it.”

“I wish that I was normal sometimes.”

“You are normal.”

“No, but I mean… If I was just a normal 14 year old, doing normal freshman year course work, maybe it wouldn’t feel like I was drowning. I wouldn’t be doing applied physics and AP Biology and gothic literature. Maybe I could just… go to the movies with my friends. Maybe I would actually have friends,” she said rolling her eyes.

“You have me,” Mal reminded her.

“I know. But what about when they let us out of here? You’ll go back to Colorado. I’ll go back to California. And then what?”

“I bet it’ll be different though. I mean you’re going to college soon right? I’m sure there are all kinds of super smart, gifted people at Stanford.” 

Tierna sighed. “Which brings me to the other side of my fears: what if it turns out I’ve been a big fish in a small pond this whole time? What if I’m not as smart as everyone says, and I’ve just been fooling everyone?”

“I get that,” Mal said. “When I started ice skating… I was awesome. It came so easily and I had so much fun doing it. But now I’m on the Olympic track and… well. It turns out I’m not Michelle Kwan.” The hand not holding Tierna’s unconsciously made its way to the inside of her arm, pinching at the sensitive skin there. “Suddenly I went from always winning gold to feeling lucky to take the podium at all. And it was like… what is it all for? Why am I spending all of this money and time and tears on something I’m not winning at?”

“Do you still enjoy it?”

She gave a little shrug. “Sometimes. Not necessarily the practices, but the moment when you’re out on the ice and you start your routine, and the rink goes breathless because you’re hitting everything dead on…” She smiled at the ceiling. “There’s nothing like it.”

Tierna took a deep breath. “Do you think it will get better someday?”

Mal squeezed her hand. “I really, really hope so.”

**Patient: Abigail Lynn Dahlkemper**

**Age: 15**

**Diagnosis: Panic Disorder**

**Treatment: Alprazolam; Psychotherapy; Group Therapy**

Dawn gave her a smile as she came into the room. “Hello, Abby love. How are you feeling today?”

There was no bowl of water on the table today, so Abby gave her a cautious smile. “I’m feeling okay. Last night was a hair wash night, so…” She trailed off. They both knew the mental state that washing her hair left her in. “But today has been good.”

“That’s good!” She leaned forward slightly. “I have something a little different planned for us today.”

“Okay…”

She picked her leather binder up from the table and flipped it open, taking out a pen. “Abby, who all do you remember being at the pool that night?”

She dropped her eyes to her shoes; she needed new sneakers, the soles were staring to peel on hers. “There was a lot of people there. Like… twenty or so.”

“Okay. Does anyone stick out in particular?”

“Jenna. She’s the one who had invited me. And of course Jenna doesn’t go anywhere without Kiki, and Kiki doesn’t go anywhere without Elizabeth.” She swallowed, thinking back. “Todd Dietrich. Mason Wilson. And Nate Sander, he… he’s the one who pulled me out of the water.”

“Who else?”

She licked at her chapped lips. “McKenna. She… She’s the one who took my clothes.”

“Right.”

“And then others, but I don’t really remember.”

Dawn looked down at her binder then back up. “Do you remember a girl named Olivia Terrazas being there?”

Abby shrugged. “I guess? She’s not really one of the popular girls, but she hangs out with them. She and Kiki are neighbors, I think.”

“What do you know about the aftermath of the incident? Not for you, but for everyone else?”

She shook her head slightly; why should she care about what happened to anyone else? She was the one whose life had been ruined. “I… I don’t know. When they had to call the ambulance the cops came, and people got in trouble for breaking into the pool. Several people had been drinking, they got MIPs and had to do community service.”

“So people got in trouble, but not necessarily for what they did to you.”

“Yeah.” Her hands curled into fists.

Dawn pulled out an envelope. “I have something here for you. It seems that after the incident, Olivia’s parents put her in counseling. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Part of that therapist’s work with her was to have her make amends to people, and you were on her list.”

“Okay?”

“She wrote you a letter, and the therapist forwarded it on to me, thinking it might be helpful for both of you.” She tilted her head to one side. “Would you like to read it?”

“What will it change?” Abby asked.

Dawn smiled. “Nothing in the past, I’m afraid. But it might change how you feel now.” She placed it on the table between them, and Abby reluctantly picked it up and opened it, pulling out a sheet of paper.

_Dear Abby,_

_I’m writing to apologize to you. I’ve spent a lot of time telling myself that what happened to you wasn’t my fault. I thought that since I didn’t invite you, since I didn’t convince you to skinny dip, since I didn’t steal your clothes, I wasn’t to blame for what happened after. But the truth is, I am. I knew that they were being assholes. When McKenna motioned for everyone to get out and then grabbed your clothes, I knew that it was wrong. I watched you begin to panic and cry, and I still didn’t do anything. Even when you went under, I just stood there and watched as everyone stopped laughing, and then Nate jumped in to pull you out._

_You were scared and embarrassed and having a panic attack, and I stood by and did nothing, worried that they would turn on me if I spoke up. And that’s not a good enough excuse._

_You didn’t deserve what happened, and if you never forgive me, or anyone else that was there that night, I understand. But I still want to say I’m sorry, and I hope you’re doing better._

_Olivia_

Abby sniffed back her tears. “Well… there’s that.”

“How does it say?”

“That she’s sorry. That she should have stopped it. That she understands if I never forgive them.”

“How do you feel about that? Forgiveness, I mean.”

“I… I don’t know. On one hand… I am still so angry. Every time I have to do the water aversion therapy or wash my hair or when I have another stupid nightmare about that pool, I want to destroy them. Because they’ve taken so much from me. But at the same time… how can I say I wouldn’t have done the same thing? I wanted so badly for Jenna and her friends to like me, maybe I would have done like Olivia did and just stood by. So who am I to be angry at her.”

“Can you picture a day when you might want to see some of those kids again? In hopes of finding some sort of closure?”

Abby sighed again. “I don’t know. Maybe some day. But right now, I just want…”

“What do you want, love?”

“Peace.”

**Patient: Megan Anna Rapinoe**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Alcohol, Cocaine)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

After several rings, Rachael picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Pinoe grinned into the phone. “Hey, hey, hey!”

“What’s up?”

“Not much.” She leaned against the wall, letting her eyes sweep over the rec room. “Same shit, different day. What’s up with you?”

Her twin gave a heavy sigh. “Same shit, different day.”

She picked up on her heavy tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s… nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Rach, what is it? Did something happen?”

“Mom got a call from the prison today.”

Her heart began to speed up. “Oh? What did they say?”

“Brian is… he’s in trouble, Meg. He’s gotten in with some scary people.”

“Well what did you expect? He’s in prison.”

“No, I mean… like neo nazis. Skin heads. White supremacists. Bad, bad guys.”

Her blood went cold. “What?!”

“I know. And apparently he got involved in a fight and… he stabbed someone. He killed someone.” And with that, she burst into tears.

“No…” Pinoe replied. “Rach, that’s… This is Brian! Our brother! He’s not, he’s not a racist.”

“I’m just telling you what happened.”

“But…”

“Mom didn’t want to tell me. But she was crying when she got off the phone, and Dad was there, and it just came out. And I just, I’m so worried about him. I’m worried about him and I’m worried about you.”

“Me?!” she scoffed. “Rachael, can you focus? I’m not the one who just committed murder, which I cannot believe by the way. We know Brian, I know that he wouldn’t do something like this!”

“The old Brian wouldn’t! But the Brian that does drugs and shit? We don’t know him. He’s a different person on coke. He’s someone who hates, who’s violent.”

“This has to be some kind of a mistake-”

“The only mistake is you thinking that you don’t have a fucking problem, Megan. It’s you not realizing that you’re headed in the exact same direction he is.”

Her fear was quickly turning to anger. “Hey I don’t need you calling to scream at me and point your finger, okay? I don’t need your judgement.”

“I’m not judging you, I’m trying to tell you that I’m scared! I’m scared of losing you!”

“You’re not going to-” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m fine, Rachael.”

“You’re sitting in a rehabilitation center. What about that says that you’re fine?”

She could feel the group of girls waiting for the phone watching her, could feel them trying to figure out what was happening. “I have to go, Rachael,” she replied, purposefully keeping her tone even and steady.

She sighed. “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m not trying to attack you, I just-”

“I know.” Because she did know. “I love you too.” They said their goodbyes and Pinoe hung up, walking over to the window and staring out at the trees that were swaying in the wind. She couldn’t believe what Rachael had just told her about their older brother. He was her rock, her protector, her one time role model. How could he have done something so awful? How could he be associating himself with people that stood for the opposite of what they had been raised to believe?

_But then again, how many skeevy guys have you hung around with, just because they were easy to score coke off of?_

She tried to push the thought from her mind, but it refused to budge.

_What if everyone is right, and you’re looking at your own future?_


	16. How can I take the pain away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back! Sorry for the unplanned hiatus during October, but I hope this chapter helps keep you distracted on today, the American day of reckoning.

_'_ _Late at night I could hear the crying  
_ _I hear it all, trying to fall asleep  
_ _When all the love around you is dying  
_ _How do you stay so strong?_  
 _How did you hide it all for so long?_  
 _How can I take the pain away?_  
 _How can I save_

_A fallen angel, in the dark_   
_Never thought you'd fall so far_   
_Fallen angel, close your eyes_   
_I won't let you fall tonight'_

Fallen Angel, Three Days Grace

**Patient: Samantha June Mewis**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Anxiety Disorder**

**Treatment:** **Alprazolam; Psychotherapy; Group Therapy**

Sam was in the middle of a game of monopoly when Amy came up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Sam you have a phone call in the office.”

“Oh, weird.” Sam got up and followed her out of the room. Once she was seated next to the intake desk, Amy handed her the phone. “Hello?”

“Did you know?”

“Mom?” she asked.

“Did you know? I swear to God, Samantha, please don’t lie to me. Just tell me the truth, I can’t handle any more lies, my heart won’t be able to take it.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

She heard her suck in a shaky breath. “Your sister is seeing someone.” Her voice made it clear that this was clearly a bad thing.

“O…kay?”

“She didn’t even tell me! She’s been sneaking around, doing who knows what, and I didn’t even know. I have to get her on birth control now, I can only hope it’s not too late!”

Sam opened her mouth, about to say something like ‘But Rachel can’t get Kristie pregnant,’ but thankfully her mind stopped her. Kristie hadn’t told their mom she was dating anyone, and now that she knew, she clearly hadn’t mentioned that it was a girl. Same sure as hell wasn’t going to blow her cover on that. “I’m sure it’s fine, Mom,” she said quietly.

“It’s not!” She gave a low groan. “She’s too young to be a mother. How will she possibly support the baby? And I’m sure this… this boy won’t do anything to help! She’s ruined her life!”

“Mom, she’s not pregnant!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Well neither do you!” Sam took a breath. “How do you even… how did you find out?’

“She was getting out of the shower and I came in to give her a towel and she had a _hickey._ ”

Sam almost wanted to laugh at the way she spat out the word, as if it was something dirty she had found on her shoe. “Mom…”

“And she had the nerve to be mad at me! Can you imagine?”

She took a deep breath. “Mom. Kristie’s not pregnant.”

She gave a choked sob. “Well what if she’s managed to catch an STD? She could have syphilis or gonorrhea!”

Sam could feel Amy watching her. “Kristie doesn’t have an STD.”

“Oh God, what if it’s HIV? My poor baby, her whole life destroyed!”

“How would she have HIV?”

“She could have caught it! From this boy, whose name she _refuses to tell me!_ ”

This part was yelled, and Sam could just picture her mother, standing outside of Kristie’s door, phone held tightly to her ear, especially when she heard Kristie yell back in a muffled voice, “Because it’s none of your business!”

“Kristie! Get out here and talk to your sister! Sam, tell her she needs to tell me. I need to know!”

The phone was handed over and her older sister came on the line. “This is ridiculous,” she hissed into the mouthpiece.

“Am I on speaker?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you just tell her about Rachel so that she calms down?”

“Because she won’t calm down! Because she’ll just find new things to freak out about!”

“Still, then at least she won’t put you on birth control.”

“I don’t care! Do you hear that? _I don’t care!”_ Sam winced as Kristie’s voice became a scream.

“What is going on in here?” Her dad’s voice became audible, and Sam sighed.

“Kristie, I’m going to let you go-”

“Mom is freaking out for no good reason!” Sensing that everyone had forgotten she was even on the phone, Sam quietly hung up.

“Everything okay?” Amy asked.

Sam sighed. “My mom found out that my sister is dating someone and she’s freaking out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” Sam took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam lied. “I’m fine.” Truth be told, her mind was now spinning, worrying about her family. Would this be the fight that proved to be too much for her dad? Would this be the straw that broke her parents’ marriage? Why hadn’t she done a better job of calming her mom down? Perhaps if she had done better then she could have headed this off. Maybe-

“Sam.” She raised her eyes to find Amy watching her closely. “You can’t control other people. You can’t fix them. You’re only in control of yourself.”

“Right,” Sam said softly, swallowing back tears she was embarrassed to let fall. “Right, yeah.”

“It’s almost time for lunch, why don’t you head that way?”

“Okay.” Sam got to her feet and started to leave the room, pausing in the doorway. “Did you have sex in high school?”

Amy blinked at her. “Um… yeah.”

“Did you get an STD?”

She let out a choked little laugh. “No, Sam. I didn’t.”

“Right. Yeah.” She shook her head and headed for the dining hall.

**Patient: Jessica Marie McDonald**

**Age: 17**

**Diagnosis: Postpartum Psychosis**

**Treatment: Risperidone; Lithium; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

“Alright everyone, we have a little bit of a treat today!” Nurse Julie called as they were eating.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“Well, if you’ll give me a second, I’ll tell you.” She smiled widely at all of them. “We are very happy to celebrate with all of you that our very own, Heather, is going to be a mommy!” Gasps rang out through the room. “So today for dessert, we have cake!”

Everyone jumped to their feet, running over either to congratulate Heather and give her a hug, or go get their piece of cake. Jess didn’t move from her seat, staring down at her plate. She dug her fingernails into the skin above her knees, trying to distract herself with the pain.

“Cake?” She looked up to see Carli standing there, holding out a small paper plate.

“Oh. Thanks.” She took it and dragged the tines of her fork through the white frosting.

“You okay?”

She shrugged, not looking up from the cake. “Yeah. It’s just funny, y’know.”

“Funny?”

Jess gave her a sarcastic smile. “No one got me a cake when I got pregnant.”

“Oh.” Carli paused for a moment, then snorted. “Yeah, I bet not.”

“Everyone was… pissed.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Telling me how badly I’d fucked up my life, as if I didn’t already know.” She sighed. “They came around, though. By the time I had my baby shower, my mom was so excited to be a grandma. Courtney’s mom, too. Everyone was buying little onesies and socks and… I don’t know. Everyone was suddenly happy. As if they’d all forgotten that the whole root of the problem was that I’d ruined my life.”

“How old is he now?”

“Who?”

“Your son.”

Jess rolled her shoulders, stretching the tight muscles. “Five months.”

Carli pursed her lips, staring at her own cake. “Do you miss him at all?”

“I mean… maybe a little bit? Or, I know I’m supposed to. But mainly I just…”

“What?”

“I feel like that rock climber. The one who got his arm stuck and had to cut it off. Like I’m sad that the arm’s gone, but I’m not about to crawl back underneath the boulder.”

“Julie. Return to your seat please.” They both looked up to see Julie and Laura at a stand off again.

“No! I’m not eating cake!”

Carli let out a huffy laugh. “There’s the princess meltdown, right on schedule.”

Jess shook her head. “We’re all so goddamn messed up. We’re never going to get any better. This… all of this is a lie. We’re hopeless.”

“Hey! Speak for yourself!”

She raised an eyebrow at Carli. “So you’re not planning on using steroids again once they let you out?”

Carli narrowed her eyes and picked up her tray, stalking to a different table. Jess lowered her eyes back to her cake. For a moment she let herself think about Jeremiah, let herself imagine a world where everything was different, where she was older and had been married for several years and was able to give him the kind of love he deserved.

Just as quickly, she pushed the thoughts away, playing with the ring on her left hand, the one Courtney’s parents had bought for him to give to her before their quick, rushed marriage. Carli had tried to do something nice and she had pushed her away, just like everyone else.

**Patient: Emily Ann Sonnett**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Depression; Anxiety; Trauma (Physical Abuse-Parental)**

**Treatment: Citalopram; Lorazepam (as needed); Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Emily shuffled through the door to her and Ali’s room, her duffle bag thrown over her shoulder, freshly searched by the staff to make sure she wasn’t smuggling anything back. She dropped it to the floor beside her bed. She looked into the bathroom but found it empty. She stepped through to the other side, giving Becky and Rose a little wave. “Hi, I’m back.”

“How was it?” Becky asked, adjusting her glasses.

Emily gave her a close lipped smile, subconsciously tugging the arm of her sweatshirt down over her hands. “Fine. Where’s Ali?”

“Ashlyn’s room,” Rose answered.

When Emily’s eyebrows shot up, Becky shrugged. “Nothing’s like… fixed. But they’re talking, so that’s something.”

“Right. Well I’m gonna shower and then head to bed. Do either of you need the bathroom?” They shook their heads and she went about her business.

She was in the midst of changing into her pajamas when the door opened. “Em, you’re back- oh fuck.”

She clutched her night shirt to her chest and whirled around. Ali and Ashlyn were both standing just inside the closed door. Ali looked panicked while Ashlyn’s face held nothing but grim acceptance.

“I guess we don’t have to ask how your home visit went,” she said in a low voice.

“Fuck off.” Emily turned back around, pulling on the nightshirt, covering the bruise spanning her shoulder blade.

“What happened?” Ashlyn asked.

“Nothing. It was fine. I saw Emma and we hung out with her friends and it was fine.”

“And then someone punched you in the back!”

“Ash…” Ali said quietly.

“Well, I’m not gonna stand here while she lies to us.”

Emily whipped around. “Then how about you get out? No one’s making you stand there!”

Ashlyn took a step closer. “What happened?” she repeated.

“Nothing-”

“Emily!”

“I didn’t- he didn’t mean to,” she snapped. “It was… an accident.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “Sure. An accident. Whatever.”

“No, it… it was.” Emily sighed and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “From the moment I got home on Friday, he ignored me. Didn’t speak to me, didn’t look at me. My mom pretty much did the same thing. And it was fine! I didn’t really mind. But then… last night I went out with Emma and we were late for curfew.” She shook her head. “Only like fifteen minutes, but it didn’t matter. He was already furious. Yelling, spit flying. Still ignoring me, mind you. And then he just started… beating on her. It was horrible. And my mom was upstairs, pretending not to hear anything like she always does, and I couldn’t just watch it happen, I couldn’t be like her! So I tried to pull him off of her. And he turned around and shoved me, as hard as he could. And I fell back into a chair, hitting my head and slamming my back into the seat.”

“Oh my god,” Ali gasped. “Did you go to the hospital?”

Emily laughed, wiping under her eyes. “No. That’s the first Sonnett family rule: No one goes to the hospital unless something is broken. Well, that’s actually the second. The first is to keep your mouth shut, no matter what.” She shook her head again. “Guess I already broke that one.”

“Do you have a concussion?” Ashlyn asked, sitting in Ali’s desk chair.

“No. I had a little bit of a headache this morning, but mainly it’s just my back that hurts.”

“You should ask the nurses for an ice pack,” Ali suggested.

“They’ll ask what’s wrong.”

“I’ll tell them I stubbed my toe. I’ll get you one.” Ali swiftly left the room.

Ash turned back to Emily. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he can’t get away with this!”

“He can and he has.” Emily fixed her with a look. “Jill already called the police and they did nothing! There isn’t any stopping him. I just have to bide my time and wait-”

“What until he breaks something?”

“Until I graduate. And then I can move away, can move across the country, across the world if I want. And I’ll never have to see him again. Or my mom, if I don’t want to. But until then, I just have to keep my head down and stay out of his way.”

“What if he really hurts you next time? Or what about Emma, now that you’re not there to step in?”

Emily’s eyes filled with tears but she was saved by Ali coming back in with the ice pack. She took it from her and settled back against her pillows with it underneath her shoulder blade. “Just two more years,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “Two more years and I’ll be done with school and free. I can make it till then. I’ll be fine.” She glanced over to find both Ali and Ashlyn staring at her. “I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice stronger. And I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

Ash grabbed Ali’s hand, giving it a squeeze before slipping out the door. Ali got ready for bed and slipped beneath her own blankets, turning out the lamp. She laid there in silence for a few moments.

“You know I care about you, right?”

There was a long pause.

“Yeah. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's chat on tumblr, @thetheatrelady


	17. I don't need anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I know you were expecting this Tuesday, but I was having my own Trauma Tuesday. Hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think

_'Torn apart like the brokenhearted  
Up in smoke with the fire we started  
Misery loves company  
I don't need anyone  
Smash it up like there's no tomorrow  
Leave me here with the fear and sorrow  
Misery loves company  
I don't need anyone'_

Misery, blink-182

**Patient: Rebecca Elizabeth Saurbrunn**

**Age: 18**

**Diagnosis: Addiction (Adderall); Trauma (Divorce, Loss of a Loved One)**

**Treatment: Supervised Tapering; Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Grief Counseling**

Becky gave a heavy sigh, staring at the packet of papers in front of her. It was letters of admission from all of the colleges she had applied to in the fall. The University of Missouri, Duke, UConn, the University of Virginia, the University of Texas. All good schools, all of whom wanted her. All offering different programs and clubs and dorms and experiences. All wanting a response.

If only she could make a decision.

She shuffled through them again. Really, if she would pick a major that would make everything easier. But she had spent her whole life thinking that she would take after her dad and go to medical school. She wasn’t sure that she actually wanted to be a doctor, but she knew that she was smart enough to pull it off. Growing up her friends had joked that she was like Christina Yang on Grey’s Anatomy, all bite. But now the truth was out there for everyone to see: Becky wasn’t a Christina. She was weak. When it had all come down to it, she had fallen apart. Adding her appetite for pills to that, and she didn’t think that medicine was such a safe bet for her anymore.

So where did that leave her? Should she become a lawyer? Go into engineering? Study communications? What did someone even do with a degree in communications? The idea was almost laughable- her, a girl who was so bad at talking about her feelings that she’d been shipped off to this care facility, devoting four years to communication.

“Becky?” She lifted her head to find Mark in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She realized that she had unknowingly started crying and wiped quickly at her cheeks in annoyance. “I’m fine.”

“You sure about that?”

She gave her head a sharp, jerky nod. “Everything is fine.”

“Is that your homework?”

“I already finished.”

“So what are you working on?” he pressed.

She pulled the papers stubbornly closer. “Nothing.”

He gave her a highly unimpressed look. “Hand it over,” he insisted.

She gave a huffy sigh and shoved the papers across the desk for him to examine them. He flipped through before giving her an impressed look. “Becks, these are all great schools!”

“Thanks,” she grumbled.

“What’s got you in such a rotten mood?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

He sighed and pulled over a spare chair. “Talk to me Becky. Keeping it all in won’t help anything. Is it about the cost? I know that tuition costs have gotten out of control-”

“I have a college fund,” she cut in.

“Okay, what then?” He waited a moment then leaned in. “Becky, you don’t have to succeed in spite of the people around you. You’re not alone.” She gritted her teeth, refusing to speak in the face of that horrible PBS cliché. He picked up one of the papers and let out a low whistle. “Duke. It’s a hell of a school. Full of brainiacs like you. So is UT. They both have incredible pre med programs.”

She couldn’t resist taking the bait. “You think I should go pre med?”

He smiled. “I think you should study what will make you happy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, I’ll just pick up a degree in Adderall and disappointing people.”

“I said what makes you happy, not what’s helped you survive during the last few years.”

She wiped at her cheeks again. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what would make me happy.”

“You could always start off undecided. Take some classes, do some exploring.”

She scoffed. “Oh sure. My dad would just love that. It would be one more thing that I can’t manage to do right.”

“Lots of people start off undecided.”

“Not Saurbunns!” she insisted.

He leaned his head on his hand, giving her a sad smile. “Becky. You need to give yourself a little grace. You’ve had… an awful few years. It’s understandable that you would be feeling a little lost or unsure. Have you thought about maybe taking a gap year? I know they’re not as popular here, but in Europe most kids take them.”

She shook her head then buried her face in her hands. “No. I just need to suck it up and pick a college. I’ve been babying myself, and I just need to get it done already.”

He sighed, standing up from his seat. “Ease up, Becky. Nothing has to be decided today.”

**Patient: Carli Anne Lloyd**

**Age: 18**

**Diagnosis: Steroid Use/Addiction; Depression (informal diagnosis)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

Carli stood against the building, watching as Morgan walked up to the makeshift home plate on the grass. AD, the other team’s ‘pitcher,’ brought her arm back and hurled the big, pink ball towards Morgan. At the last minute, her teammate hesitated, missing the ball and earning her third strike.

“You’re out!” Rory called.

Carli couldn’t help but growl under her breath. “Way to go, Morgan.”

Pinoe gave her a look. “Chill out, Carlos. It’s fuck up kick ball, not the Olympics.”

“She could still try,” Carli snarked back.

“Lloyd! You’re up.” Carli approached the home plate and narrowed her eyes at AD as if to challenge her. The younger girl gave her a nod then pitched the ball towards her. Carli braced and brought her leg back, kicking as hard as she could. It sailed upwards and Carli took off at a sprint, pumping her arms as she rounded the bases. She could hear people cheering and yelling but ignored all of it, not seeing anything but the path in front of her as she ran.

She dashed across home plate and finally came to a stop, giving her teammates a victorious smile. She was confused when she got blank faces and rolled eyes in return. “What?”

Christen gave her a sympathetic smile. “Tobin caught it, you’re out.”

Rage instantly surged through her. “What? No! I made it all the way home!”

“Yeah, but she caught it when you were between first and second. We tried to tell you but you just kept running.” Ashlyn patted her awkwardly on the shoulder as she walked by, going to take her position as catcher.

“No! That’s bullshit!”

“Watch the language,” Rory barked.

“No! I made it home, we deserve the point!” She turned around kicked home plate for good measure.

“I’m only going to tell you this once, chill out or I’m sending you inside to work on dinner prep.”

She glared at the man. “I’m the best athlete here, I deserve the point!”

He lifted an arm and pointed at the clinic door. “Kitchen. Now. Before I start taking privileges.”

She bit her tongue, not wanting to lose what little freedoms she had, and stalked into the building.

She reported to the kitchen and was put on vegetable duty, chopping up carrots and cucumbers. It wasn’t fair! She was the only one who had even cared about the fucking game, and now she couldn’t play? Didn’t they realize that it was one of the only things that made her feel halfway human again?

She looked down to realize that the hand holding the knife was white knuckled and shaking. She clumsily placed it on the cutting board then forced herself to take a deep breath as she squeezed her eyes shut.

_Winning a game of kick ball won’t get you back on the U-23 team._

_Nothing will get you back on._

_Because you’re a loser._

_A failure._

“Carli? Are you okay?”

She kept her eyes closed, refusing to look at the kitchen manager. “I’m fine,” she forced out.

“Are you sure? Do you need to see a nurse?”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. She forced her eyes open and refocused on the task in front of her, slicing the silver blade through each carrot, trying to ignore the whispers of failure spinning inside her head.

**Patient: Crystal Alyssia Dunn**

**Age: 16**

**Diagnosis: Eating Disorder (Bulimia Nervosa)**

**Treatment: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy; Group Therapy**

She was sitting on the couch in the rec room, staring at the bathroom door. She knew that she wasn’t allowed to go in, not until the hour was up. If she even walked in it’s general direction Laura would be on her in a second. It wasn’t happening.

She hadn’t purged in months. Not since the gas station bathroom on the way here. She could still remember every detail of it: the gross tile floor, the paper towels overflowing from the trash can, the pinkish tint of blood in the toilet bowl in front of her. She could especially remember the smell. People might think that if you threw up at least three times a day that you would get used to the stench, but it’s not true. Instead, it curls up inside of you, haunting you, making you feel sick even when you aren’t trying to be.

When she’d come out of the bathroom, her mom had been waiting, arms crossed, head shaking.

“I’m car sick,” Crystal had replied defensively.

“You’re definitely sick. Sick in the head,” her mother had sighed. She’d had no choice but to shoulder the disappointment of her mother and get back into their car, continuing down the Pennsylvania highway towards the clinic.

She didn’t miss throwing up. That would be insane. But she did miss the control it had provided her.

At this point she wasn’t even sure that it was about weight. Sure, it had started that way. When she had found herself comparing herself to her teammates on the pom squad, when they had gotten new uniforms that magnified every single lump and roll, she had tried to diet. But she loved food. She loved the comfort it gave her. On her lowest days she wanted nothing more than to go home and heat up a bowl of her mom’s mac n cheese, finding sanctuary in the butter and cheese. So she had found a magical loophole, one that let her eat and eat and eat, and still fit into her pom team uniform.

Her teammates got it. When McKenzie had one day wandered into the locker room just in time to find Crystal heaving in the bathroom, she’d just kind of nodded, shrugging in a way that said, what else can you do? They were all trying to fit into the sparkly little dresses, all trying to get Nationals ready. Everyone had to do things that they weren’t proud of.

She constantly carried a toothbrush around with her, telling her friends that she just wanted to make sure that her teeth were pretty and white, but really because she was petrified of her breath smelling like vomit. The constant brushing didn’t stop her from getting cavities, her parents confused as to how she suddenly had so many. She had heartburn and couldn’t go to the bathroom normally. She was tired all of the time, and grouchy. But they were on the road to Nationals, and Crystal was committed to winning.

Then Coach Hamm had found her in the locker room, passed out next to the toilet. She’d opened her eyes to find her coach’s panicked face just inches from her own, demanding that someone call 911. She’d weakly tried to protest, saying that she was fine, just not feeling well, but Coach Hamm had shook her head.

“No Crys. This ends here, honey.”

Her parents had been called to the hospital, and had both been confused when the doctor had delivered his diagnosis.

“No offense, but eating disorders are something that white girls get. Crystal is fine,” her dad argued. But after meeting with two more doctors and discussing the signs that Coach Hamm had seen, they grimly accepted the diagnosis, even as Crystal tried to explain to them that this was all a huge misunderstanding.

She stared at the bathroom door. A voice in the back of her brain said that every moment she sat here the fat was slowly but surely stitching itself to her body, making her grow and bloat and become grotesque.

But… more than anything, Crystal was tired. She was tired of the power food held over her. She was tired of it infiltrating every facet of her life, the way that dance used to.

Julie plopped down beside her, wiping at her face. “It’s not fair,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Laura pulled me aside to tell me that I’ve been denied for my trip to go home for my sister’s graduation.”

Crystal slipped her hand into her best friend’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair! I’m going to miss out on everything! I won’t be in any of the pictures! And years from now people will ask why I wasn’t there, and we’ll have to make up some dumb story.”

“Do you think if you proved to Laura and everyone that you’re trying that they would reconsider?”

Julie shook her head miserably. “No. They’ve made up their mind. And besides, I already told you that I’m not falling for any of their crap anymore.”

“Jules…”

“I can’t do it, Crys. I won’t. I’m not eating their food, I’m not letting them lie to me anymore.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” Crystal asked before she could stop herself.

Julie gave her a look. “What do you mean?”

“Of fighting. Don’t you ever just want to… give in? Be normal?”

“What, just eat what’s put in front of me? Let them turn me into some bloated cow?”

“I just meant-”

“What?” Julie scoffed. “I thought you were my best friend.”

“I am,” Crystal insisted. “I’m just… don’t you ever want to leave here?”

“Not if that’s the cost!”

“Julie-”

“No, forget it. I just wanted a little comfort, but apparently that’s too much to ask.” She got up from the couch and sped across the room, slipping down the hallway.

Crystal sighed and turned back to look at the bathroom door.

God, she was tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or come chat on tumblr @thetheatrelady, tell me who you want to hear more about!


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